White Shadows
by Dante Lewis
Summary: Sequel to Black Light. Sirius is now free, and the Summer begins full of promise. But with the Dark Lord gaining strength and the need for secrecy and protection taking control, will history be set to repeat itself? AU
1. Changes

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and associated references belong to you-know-who (not me). The theories, opinions and characterisations contained herein are my own and in no way represent the views of, er, _you-know-who_. Unless you consider thoughtful, constructive reviews as payment, then I do not profit from this in any way either.

Note: This story is a sequel to my first fic, entitled "_Black Light_". Though I am sure if you stick with this story long enough you will get the gist of the characterisations I established in its predecessor, I strongly suspect that there's some merit to be found in reading the first one first.

Updated: Sunday July 31st 2005

Beta'd by 3-Legged Dog

**Chapter 01: Changes**

The attic, as Sirius informed her, was the ideal place for a teenaged boy to live. A spirited spring clean and gratuitous use of Wizard's Space charms rendered the floor space completely unrecognisable from its formerly cluttered mess. While the room facing the back of the property had already been converted into a secure, sound-proofed pen for Buckbeak, the front room and common area connecting the two rooms needed a complete overhaul. A lick of paint and selective choice of furniture, and Harry Potter was in for a bedroom of the sorts he'd never had before.

"I helped James design Harry's nursery." Sirius had said quietly one day as the father and daughter poured over colour samples. Having been required to spend the first two weeks of summer with his Muggle relatives in order to reinforce the protective ward around their home, Harry was not set to arrive for another several days. "Red and gold with an abundance of Golden Snitches… do you think James knew something?"

"Well, it was foreseen that his son would be the youngest seeker in a century." Estella countered lightly, picking out a red colour card distractedly. "Do you think Harry'd like something similar?"

"Well he's a Gryffindor…" Sirius shrugged, sighing slightly at Estella's inference. Sometimes it was still hard for him to remember that she had spent time in the past. "What do you think?"

"I think if I was surrounded by red and gold all year at school I'd want to come home to something different." Estella told him honestly. "Thankfully, Ravenclaws don't seem to put as much stock in House colours. We have considerably more taste than to go plastering everything in blue and silver."

"Alright then," Sirius jibed, giving her a challenging look. "_You_ pick a colour Harry will like."

"Green." said Estella instantly, grinning at her father's look of surprise.

"Green?" Sirius shook his head. "_Green_?"

Estella nodded. "He told me he likes it." She told him, "After all, his eyes are - "

"-green." Sirius and Estella recalled in unison.

"But if James wanted snitches…" Estella frowned, her voice trailing off.

Sirius sighed. "Harry had a nursery to end all nurseries." He reminisced, the image of what that room looked like last coming to his mind with a shudder. Shaking his head dismissively, he smiled and gave Estella a sidelong look. "Until your mother and I took it upon ourselves to outdo it, of course."

"Naturally." Estella smiled. "I'm sure Harry wouldn't mind red and gold though…"

"No, you're right. Gryffindor colours get a bit much." Sirius admitted. "James' scheme was brilliant for a nursery, don't get me wrong, but I imagine he and Harry would have updated it long ago…"

"Well maybe we should wait… let Harry help." Estella suggested.

"No." Sirius shook his head vehemently. "I want his room ready. I want him to feel at home here – I really want to surprise him, don't you?"

"A Slytherin crest on his comforter will do that," said Estella wickedly, a familiar glint in her eye. "I can get my hands on one."

Sirius choked on his mouthful of Butterbeer and gaped openly at his daughter. Looking into her eyes was sometimes too much like looking into a mirror. "I will _not_ have a Slytherin crest in this house!" He stated indignantly.

"Oh, really?" Estella cocked a brow. "What about when Uncle Sev is here?"

"Well unless he has little snakes embroidered on his knickers, I have not seen… Wait… Are you telling me?… No… No way… You're joking!" Sirius continued to gape at his daughter's poker face.

"I didn't say anything." she said simply, the corners of her lips twitching. "But since you're so curious, maybe you should ask him yourself."

Scoffing, Sirius fumbled with the colour cards in his hand, suddenly finding the brightly coloured cards very interesting. "S-So, w-what shade of green?"

* * *

In the end, they had settled on a nice emerald, un-Slytherin-like, shade of green for the walls, the colour broken by the wooden picture rail and royal blue trim. The exposed cedar rafters of the sloping attic ceilings were polished up, and the furniture designed in a matching grain. Wooden shutters curtained the window, giving the room a distinctively masculine feel. A hook hung by the window for Hedwig's cage, and a perch sat in a corner by a desk. The main feature of the room was, without a doubt, a selection of framed Quidditch photos that surrounded the brass wall-mounted broom holder. Generous shelving across the exterior sloping walls made ample provision for his schoolbooks and other personal effects to be housed in open display. 

"I imagine that living with Muggles, he had to keep a lot of his stuff hidden." Estella had correctly guessed in making the suggestion they give the room a distinctly wizarding feel. "He's going to love those photos…"

Collecting the Quidditch photos had been a long-running project for Sirius. Months of covertly conspiring with the Gryffindor Head of House and trolling through the old school periodicals and records she'd forwarded him whilst in hiding; and he had amassed a impressive collection of live action shots from both his own school years and Harry's. As an added bonus, Sirius had also managed to track down a few candid spectator shots of the earthbound people in their respective lives. Estella had particularly become fond of a picture featuring herself and her mother cheering in the Ravenclaw stands.

"I wonder when that was." Estella mused aloud as she admired a photo of Lily and Remus in the Gryffindor stands. "Lily looks _pissed_."

"Estella, don't use words like that." Sirius scolded her half-heartedly as he finished untangling a collection of quills in the desk, sliding the drawer home before looking over at her. "The correct term to use is-"

He looked at the image on the wall and grimaced. "-pissed." He finished, for lack of a better word.

"-irate, ticked off, highly animated," Estella ran off a list of alternatives, eying her father triumphantly.

"Well," Sirius growled playfully. "Why don't you use that Ravenclaw vocabulary of yours in future and save the potty mouth for dim-witted Gryffindors like me."

"Aha! You admit it!" said Estella smugly. "Uncle Sev was right all along!"

"Yes, well at least we Gryffindors can kick Ravenclaws' arses on the Quidditch Pitch." He sidled up behind Estella and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, the pair of them pausing to admire the photos.

"Why was Lily so ticked off?" Estella asked curiously.

"Uh," Sirius paused. "I fell off my broom-"

"She was defending your honour?" said Estella with a tone of disbelief.

"You didn't let me finish!" he protested. "I fell off my broom because I was laughing too hard at James."

"Oh." Estella nodded her head in understanding. "You were just being your usual dim-witted self then? S'no wonder Lily was-"

"Hey!" Sirius interrupted her. "I'll have you know your mother had a hand in it too! Who do you think made me laugh?"

"Uh, James?" Estella was confused.

"Yes, James." Sirius shook his head. "But had your mother not clocked him in the face with that Bludger he wouldn't have been so funny. You should have seen the look of surprise on his face -"

"Wait, what was Mum doing playing Quidditch?" Estella was surprised.

"It was just the one game. One of the Ravenclaw Beaters was sick with Dragon Pox." Sirius explained distractedly.

"So, what, you were opposing Beaters?" Estella's eyes went wide, the wheels in her mind turning.

Sirius nodded. "James, the cocky sod, didn't think your mother had it in her to send a Bludger his way. Had this insane idea that she wouldn't want to make me mad; like I would actually be sad to see his head deflated an inch or two. You know that the Muggleborns called him The Artful Dodger because the Bludgers could never get him?" His grinned widened. "Until that day."

"You helped Mum, didn't you?" Estella looked at her father knowingly. "You set up your own team mate!"

"Shhh!" Sirius hissed, casting the photo a wary look as though he feared the woman therein would rise from the photo and throttle him. "The game was in the bag. No one was supposed to see! No one did see, except-"

"-Lily?" Estella raised a brow.

"I never found out for sure if she saw. No one else did, that I know. Everyone always looks to the Chaser when they're about to score." He paused, looking for all the world as though he had just confessed something he hadn't planned on admitting to. "At first I thought she was just mad because I was laughing at James getting hurt - just a bloody nose, don't fret - but then when they took me up to the stands to wait for Madame Pomfrey to come and set my leg - which I'd broken in the fall - Lily volunteered to sit with me and…" his voice trailed off.

"What did she do?" Estella whispered.

"She removed all the bones in my leg!" said Sirius incredulously. "And then she told the teachers that she had only been trying to help and must have gotten the spell wrong… _and_ they believed her!"

"You didn't?"

"C'mon! This was Lily Evans! She knew what she was doing!" Sirius shook his head. "Never so much as threatened to tell James, let alone confirm that she knew it. Guess she figured a night in the infirmary at the mercies of the Skele-Gro was punishment enough."

"I'll say." Estella agreed quietly, not trusting herself to say anymore lest she incriminate herself.

"That's one thing I'll give Lily credit for. She was always an enigma." Sirius sighed. "I'd never have pegged her for being able to come up with something like that. Normally her temper would take hold and she'd just scream… but this, this was brilliant! Got her point across loud and clear, without anyone even knowing it. It was positively… positively… positively _Slytherin_."

"Oh?" Estella chewed on her bottom lip nervously and instinctively began to inch away from her father, who had begun to compulsively straighten up the frames on the wall.

"You know, come to think of it." Sirius' eyes landed on a picture of Harry playing Quidditch in second year. "Didn't something like that happen with Harry? What was that teacher's name?"

"-Lockhart?" Estella offered, her guilty eyes connecting with her father's, whose narrowed in response.

"Estella." he growled, the pieces clicking in his mind.

"What? So I, maybe, kind of, mentioned something in Charms class about a boy breaking his arm playing Quidditch and the teacher getting the pronunciation wrong-"

Sirius laughed and silenced her chastened explanation with a finger on her lips. "You are so like your mother." he said softly, causing Estella to smile at him warmly, relief flooding her features.

"Speaking of Mum," she said. "If Lily took out the bones in your leg, what on earth did she do to her?"

At hearing his daughter's foreboding tone, Sirius barked out a laugh. "Congratulated her on her aim!" he said. "If I didn't know better, I'd say she was secretly ecstatic to see James eat humble pie. He was, after all, taken down by someone with next to no Quidditch experience and never lived it down!"

"That sounds about right," said Estella, a flat tone to her voice.

Sensing his daughter's mood shift, he sobered and hugged her briefly. "I know, kiddo, I miss them too," he whispered into her hair.

Estella smiled gratefully and returned the hug, recovering her resolve. With the events of the past month lingering in the back of their minds, everyone had been feeling particularly sensitive; but it was important not to lose focus. When looking for photos, for instance, Sirius had been keen to include an enlarged photograph of Harry snatching the egg from under the Hungarian Ridgeback's nose. The image captured vividly the dragon in close pursuit, smoke and fire billowing from its flaring nostrils and coming close to singeing the twigs on the end of Harry's broom. In the wake of the third task, however, it was mutually decided that the Tournament, as a whole, would be something Harry would not care to be reminded of any time soon. The photo, therefore, sat on the nightstand in Sirius' room; next to a photograph Hermione had taken of Estella and Tonks at Reading.

"Who would have thought the library would archive this stuff!" said Sirius, wiping his hands together as he stood back to admire the finished room. "Remind me to send Minerva some Cat Nip."

"The room looks magnificent, Dad." said Estella. "James would approve."

"You think Harry will like it?" asked Sirius, a worry line forming in his brow. "I mean I hope he doesn't think we're forcing this on him…"

"Dad. DAD!" Estella tugged at his arm. "Don't worry. He'll love it!"

"And the…" Sirius motioned his head to the common area behind him.

"Relax, will you?" said Estella, ribbing her father playfully. "He won't know what hit him."

The common area linking the two rooms was a wide, windowless space that had once been Sirius' manly domain and favoured convening point for him and his old friends. At Estella's insistence, they had kept a lot of the old features: the Marauder's collection of vintage editions of Quidditch Weekly was unpacked and stacked on the shelves; the battered leather couches and distinct Gryffindor Common Room influence was retained. One of the only differences to the room was in the form of the Muggle Billiards table that Estella had asked Sirius to transform his old duelling platform into.

"I know it has a history," she had told him. "But do you really want to remind Harry of duelling? I mean look at who he duelled-"

"Yes, but a… what did you call it, a 'billiards' table?"

"Oh come on, all those Muggle movies we watch and you've never even been curious?" Estella rolled her eyes. "C'mon, it'll be fun."

Sirius had regarded her with an appraising look before nodding finally. "So… a Billiards Table."

Because it was to be a shared space for the two children to get away from the 'old and crusty' tenants of the house, Estella was given creative license to make her mark on the room. As well as the Billiards Table, a few of her posters adorned the walls, and her Chess set took pride of place between two comfy looking recliners. The rest of the space she'd decided to personalise with Harry's input, as she didn't want to give the newest member of their household the impression that she had in any way taken over the room.

* * *

Once the final preparations were made for Harry's arrival, the residents of the Black home could not wait for the day of reckoning. Even Remus, who had been away from home a lot on various errands for Dumbledore, had made a point of being home to welcome Harry. When the day finally arrived, they couldn't get him through the door fast enough. 

Still basking from the afterglow of the look on the Dursleys' faces when Sirius and Estella had gone to collect Harry in their full wizarding robes, the newly formed family was still laughing as they walked in the door. What made events even more amusing, was the fact that the recurrent lag of communication between the Ministry of Magic and the Muggle media meant that news of Sirius' exoneration had not become public knowledge in Muggle society.

"I never knew a Muggle could turn so red!" Estella giggled at the memory. "If I didn't know better I'd think he'd taken a dose of Pepper-Up in his tea!"

"I still think I ought to have…" Sirius growled, his hand twitching over his wand. Had he known just how unbearable Harry's Muggle relatives were, he'd never have permitted Harry to go there. The only reason he'd agreed to Dumbledore's imposition of two weeks, was because he had rather foolishly assumed that Harry's relationship with his blood relatives was sound enough to warrant a visit. Why Harry hadn't protested or told anyone just how terrible they were was something Sirius fully intended to question the boy at length about later.

"Dad…" said Estella warningly, placing her hand over his and entwining their fingers soothingly. She, on the other hand, had been slightly more perceptive about the nature of Harry's relationship with the Dursleys and had been instrumental in calming her father down when he'd found Harry's wand locked in the closet under the stairs. "We talked about this."

"It's okay, Sirius, really," said Harry reassuringly, happy just to see the back of his childhood home at last. "I didn't know any different. It's no big deal."

"No big deal?" said Sirius, his voice raising an octave. "No big deal? Harry… Merlin… that wasn't how it was supposed to be! James would have… I would have… I should go back there and give that son of a-"

"Ah, I thought I heard voices!" said Remus, emerging from the kitchen as though on cue. "Welcome home, Harry."

"Home…" Harry murmured wistfully, a hopeful look in his eyes as they greedily took in the cosy warmth of the house around him.

"With your hearing, Moony, I've no doubt you heard us two blocks away!" Estella wagged her finger at him knowingly, hugging him briefly and sniffing at his clothes suspiciously. "Have you been cooking with chocolate?"

"Truffles are setting in the fridge as we speak, cub." Remus grinned, ruffling her hair. "Trust you to sniff them out first! Harry, I thought we could indulge in a little aperitif after dinner."

"_Aperitif_, Remus?" Sirius scoffed. "Since when did you become so posh?"

"Says the one who pulled out his richest dress robes to run errands in Muggle Surrey." Remus eyed Sirius up and down, a smile forming on his face.

"Yes, well, Harry isn't an _errand_," said Sirius, puffing out his chest defensively. "Can't blame a handsome devil like me wanting to spruce himself up for the sake of Muggle relations."

"Welcome to our home, Harry." said Estella, rolling her eyes as she tugged at his sleeve. "You'll get used to those two. Come, I'll give you the tour."

Having never been in a wizarding house aside from The Burrow, Harry was in awe to see the seamless amalgamation between Muggle and Magical influences. As far as Estella could gather, he felt immediately at home within the house's welcoming walls, and his room rendered him speechless.

"The colour," Estella prompted, biting her bottom lip nervously. "I hope it's okay…"

"No…" said Harry, shaking his head in amazement as he walked the perimeter of the room slowly, his fingers trailing over everything within reach. He turned to see the look of horror on Estella's face. "No, it's perfect. It's _all_ perfect."

"Good." said Sirius, letting out a breath of relief. He and Remus had barrelled in through the doorway behind the two teenagers, just in time to see Harry's reaction. "I'm glad you like it."

"Thank you," said Harry, his voice catching "for everything."

"That's quite all right, Harry." Sirius stopped in his tracks and inhaled deeply through his nose. "Moony! What's that smell?"

Beside him, Remus swore uncharacteristically and tore from the room. Staring after him, Estella's eyes narrowed in question.

"What's up with him?" she asked lightly.

"He hasn't left the kitchen since we left." Sirius admitted dismissively. "He wants to put on an all-out Wizarding Feast. One of the spells must have worn off or something."

"Oh," Harry shuffled nervously, his face lined with worry. "I hope he hasn't gone to any trouble on my account."

"Of course not!" Sirius assured his Godson. "Moony's been looking for a reason to get me out of the kitchen so he can wave his wand and show off his prowess. He was rather insistent that your first meal in a Wizarding home wasn't prepared the Muggle way. I don't know how to even boil an egg with a wand, you see-"

"-But he's brilliant cooking the Muggle way." Estella countered.

"Why thank you, Estella." Sirius smiled at his daughter. "Anyway, I tried to tell Moony that you'd lived in a Wizarding house before and Lily still cooked the Muggle way sometimes; but he insisted…"

"That's funny." Estella said quietly, a thoughtful look on her face. "When I first came here Moony couldn't introduce me to enough Muggle food. All the delivery places knew us by name by the end of the-"

"But that's because you'd never been in the Muggle world before." said Sirius.

"True." Estella conceded, although deep down she couldn't help but think how much easier and less stressful it had been for her Godfather to order in Muggle food as compared to orchestrating a culinary feast of this magnitude. Pouting slightly, she continued. "But still, I'd never even seen a Wizard prepare food - only the School Elves!"

"I don't get the relevance." Harry shook his head. "It's all food."

"Spoken like a true son of Prongs." Sirius smirked, clapping Harry on the shoulder and leaning in conspiringly. "It's all about the taste, isn't it? James and I never understood why there was ever another difference."

"It's quite different." Estella said somewhat defensively. "Anyone can chop a carrot with a knife, but getting it right with magic takes a certain determination."

If anyone in that room knew the difficulties inherent in using magic to manipulate food, it was Estella; for if she thought about it, some of the only times Remus had prepared complex meals with magic, was when they were at Hogwarts and he was teaching her to recreate the spells. Whenever she was staying with him in London, the most he'd prepare with magic would be sandwiches or the odd stew; and other than that they'd order in.

"Why do you think I prefer the Muggle way?" Sirius smirked, not noticing the perturbed look on Estella's face. "Always had a House Elf to cook for me as I was growing up. Never had the need to learn the techniques until I was older, and by then it was too late to ever show any promise."

"What, you mean you have to learn when you're young?" Harry asked, a disappointed tone in his voice.

"Relax, kiddo, you're not exactly ancient." Sirius shook his head in amusement.

"But how do we learn how?" Harry was confused. "It's not covered in class."

"Oh, it's a type of under-aged magic the Ministry doesn't crack down on. It gives families without house elves clearance to teach their children skills." Sirius explained, shrugging apologetically. "I don't know that much about it. Like I said, my family had an elf - but I'm sure Remus would be more helpful-"

"How can you be so sure the magic isn't traced?" Estella asked her father in challenge. "Remus only ever taught me while I was at school."

"That's probably because he'd rather you blow up your Uncle's quarters than our kitchen." said Sirius flippantly, though he didn't look very sure of himself.

"Not funny, Dad." said Estella, her mind inwardly wondering if what her father said about needing to learn how to cook magically from a young age was true or not - for if so, she'd really owe Remus some thanks. Turning her attention back to her father, she turned her nose up slightly and looked at him sternly before turning to leave. "You really shouldn't speculate about things you know nothing about."

"Estella." Sirius called her back in concern, causing her to turn and look at him. "Where are you going?"

"Thought I'd go get out of this get up." Estella informed her father tiredly, the flame in her eye dissipating as she came back to her senses. This was her father - they were always throwing insults at each other with a light-hearted, bantering humour. She'd had no reason to take this any differently.

"Don't." Sirius shook his head. "We should dress for the occasion. Moony's gone to a lot of trouble, the least we can do is glam up and make fools of ourselves with the formalities."

Harry looked horror-stricken. "The uh, only robes I have asides from my school ones are my dress robes" he said, casting a critical eye over the tailored attire of the father and daughter before him, which, while tasteful and affluent, were not quite as formal. "But that will be even more over-dressed-"

"Well that settles it then!" Sirius clapped his hands together decisively. "Estella, you heard the man. Dress robes it is!"

With a mad grin on his face and suspicious glint in his eyes, Sirius swept out of the room with an almost Lockhart flourish.

Swallowing audibly, Harry looked to Estella for clarification. She grinned wistfully.

"Wear your dress robes, Harry." she informed him, turning to follow her father out of the room before pausing in her step and turning back a second time. "On second thought, you may want to get Remus to spell them with a food-repellent charm before we sit down to eat." At Harry's indignant look, she added. "If I know Remus, he's cooked too much food..." she paused,"...and if I know Dad, he won't be able to resist."

"Resist what?" Harry whispered.

"A food fight." said Estella as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"But... but won't that make a awful mess?" Harry asked naively, his mind casting back to all the times he had to clean up after Dudley and his horrible friends under similar circumstances.

"Harry," said Estella exasperatedly. "We live with Wizards. It's not like Filch is going to come spoil the fun and make us clean it up without magic."

"But we can't use magic outside of school!"

"So we follow the lead of our elders and leave them to clean it up." Estella shrugged. "Don't worry, you'll get used to it soon enough."

* * *

That was two weeks ago. As expected, Harry did not take long to settle into his room and get used to living with three fellow wizards. Things for Estella, however, were becoming increasingly exasperating. Obsessed with making Harry feel a part of the family, Sirius was unintentionally spending less and less time with his daughter. Being made to feel like his second priority was something she was not accustomed to, no matter the impersonality of the cause. 

To make matters worse, Remus was away for days at a time, visiting Apothecary suppliers around Europe in an effort to rally support for a subsidy that would make the Wolfsbane Potion more affordable for the predominantly destitute Werewolf population.

Severus too, was already distant and inaccessible to Estella - his coerced association with the dangerous Malfoy patriarch meant that Estella could not visit him. Although he had made efforts to see Estella earlier in the summer, it was just asking too much of the unyielding Potions Master to be comfortable and civil around the son of his childhood nemesis.

The Slytherin's one visit to the combined family's home turned into a disaster when Harry slummed into the room in his pyjamas and drew the man's automated ire. Estella had snapped at her uncle in defence, and Sirius was furious at the destabilising effect it had on Harry – who, for the next week, would not leave his room without being impeccably presentable. Defensive, Severus bristly announced that as he saw enough of his niece during the term, he could go a few weeks without seeing her.

While Estella could understand the method in her uncle's madness, part of her could not help but feel slightly dejected at the implication that the man who raised her didn't seem too put out with the idea of not seeing her at all over summer. It was already bad enough that security measures meant that Estella could not have her friends visit the house, and nor could she visit them, either.

With Voldemort's return and the inherent danger both she and Harry were now in, Sirius was absolutely pedantic about ensuring their safety. Only the Muggle world was acceptably 'low-risk' for him, but any outings into the anonymity of the local Muggle amenities were postponed by the continued ineptitude of the Minister to update the Muggle Prime Minister of Sirius' innocence.

Even though they had no shortage of things to do within the house, the creeping sensation of cabin fever did not escape Sirius. Remus' infrequent returns formed part of a recurring highlight to his monotonous existence; the werewolf's colourful accounts of risk and excitement giving the housebound Marauder itchy feet. With practical experience as an Auror – an Auror with a distinct insight into Azkaban - Sirius felt he was an untapped resource that would be better served doing something out in the field. Imbued with a remarkably moral sense of honour, the notion of being able-bodied but housebound was something he despised; and he yearned to take a more active role in protecting his family.

The idea that her father would rather go out and die an 'honourable death' protecting what he valued, as opposed to accepting the security measures as she and Harry had no choice but to do in the name of enjoying a much longer life was something Estella felt very uncomfortable about. Saying goodbye to Remus each time he left the house and not even knowing what her uncle was up to was bad enough without having the reliability of her father being there for her thrown into question. No matter how hard she tried she just could not understand his reasoning, and she found it rather selfish that he should be so willing to give his life without giving any apparent thought to how that would impact on those dependent on him. Their subsequent inability to see things from each other's point of view and agree on a middle ground was a rare source of contention between the father and daughter; it marked the first of certain topics that were simply not discussed.

"I don't believe him." Estella groaned, falling into her favourite chair in her and Harry's 'common room' and regarding Harry with a tired look.

"He still on about honour and going out in a blaze of glory?" Harry put down the 1977 Annual of Quidditch Weekly and stretched his legs out on an ottoman, casting her a sympathetic look as she nodded agitatedly. Harry too had been adversely affected by Sirius' immovable sense of chivalry – he'd come to realise so much in the time he'd been staying with his God-family and could never bring himself to ever go back to the Dursleys now. He'd taken up reading through his Godfather's collection of Quidditch magazines as a way to give Estella time with her father, but he'd quickly become hooked – Harry didn't know what was more amusing… the dated fashion and loose style of writing; or the running commentary previous readers had annotated over the pages. Even the freedom of being able to read something from the Wizarding world in any room of the house was a luxury he'd only just begun to appreciate.

"Why can't I get him to understand?" Estella shook her head at the heavens and made fists with her hands as she growled. "I could just strangle him some times… I'd swear he must have never listened to a word of what your Grandfather said in class!"

"'Bout chivalry and all that?" Harry rolled his eyes. This was coming to be a common conversation between the two.

"Yes. 'Chivalry and all that', Harry." Estella snapped at him. "Don't you look at me like that! I know that tone in your voice! Don't think I can't tell you're sick of me ranting about it!"

"It's not that, Estella," said Harry exasperatedly. "God, what's gotten into you? All I meant is I just don't know what else there is we could do to convince him any differently. Having the same argument with him again and again isn't going to sway-"

"Well at least I am trying to make him see reason!" Estella snapped moodily, her eyes narrowing at Harry suspiciously. "You Gryffindors are all the same."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, don't try to pretend that you don't have a hero complex." Estella scoffed, tensely ticking specific examples off her fingers. "One: Hermione and the Troll… Two: Neville and the Rememberall… Three-"

"Okay, okay! So maybe I understand him a lot better because I'm the same" Harry admitted.

"Are you saying I don't know my father?" Estella whispered defensively. "That I wouldn't try to help a friend in trouble?" she shot him a hurt look. "Nice, Harry. Thanks a lot."

"No, no, no-"

"For your information, Harry, I understand my father perfectly well." Estella informed him, crossing her arms across her chest in a manner that reminded Harry just whose niece she was. "Perhaps that's why we can't agree. I would rather give my life for him than watch him die. And he would rather die than lose me. It's hopeless."

"I want him to stick around too, Estella." said Harry quietly, a haunted look in his eyes.

"I know you do, Harry." Estella sighed. "Sorry for snapping at you… I don't know what's wrong with me lately." Harry nodded in acceptance. "I just wish he'd understand that I couldn't live without him anymore than he reckons he couldn't handle seeing either of us hurt."

"Well we'll just have to keep a close eye on him, won't we then?" said Harry conspiringly.

"If I had my way I'd take Padfoot to school as my familiar and never let him out of my sight." said Estella, grinning slightly. "And if his Animagus form was a cat, rat or toad; I wouldn't hesitate."

"Could always transfigure him into one." Harry shrugged. "What's Remus like at Transfiguration?"

"Who needs help with their Transfiguration?" A voice asked of them inquiringly from the floor, where Sirius' head was peaking through the trapdoor.

Harry and Estella fought to mask the guilty looks on their face and feigned innocence.

"Nothing, Padfoot." They both said in unison, a singsong quality to their voice.

"Should I be watching my back?" Sirius asked, a playful hint of challenge in his voice.

"Oh, I don't know," Estella grinned wickedly and wagged her finger at her father as she stood and began to pace. "Though I think the presence of an eavesdropping head warrants some retribution, don't you, Harry?"

"Mmm, most definitely." Harry grinned playfully.

"Watch it you two!" Sirius shook his head at the pair. "Don't forget who immortalised the term 'Marauder'!"

"Fred and George." Estella and Harry responded automatically, laughing at Sirius' indignant look.

"What?" Estella challenged. "Without their idolising and sickening hero-worship, the legend would not have lived-"

"Speaking of Fred and George, are we ever going to tell them who you are, Sirius?" Harry asked.

"Why, and spoil the fun?" Sirius grinned. "Can't we tease them a little longer?"

"Yeah Harry. Best give Dad a target, else we'd cop it." said Estella. "By the way Dad, no offence, but what _are_ you doing up here?"

"I wanted to apologise for before," said Sirius, hauling himself into the room fully before looking intently at Estella.

"No need." Estella dismissed his apology with a wave of her hand. "But for what it's worth, I was out of line."

"No you weren't." Sirius shook his head. "You were pulling me into line… just like your mother, you are."

"So I've been told," said Estella, rolling the balls around on the billiards table. "Hey! The white's all scorched!"

"Busted." said Harry. "Told you she'd notice."

"Most definitely like your mother." Sirius shook his head in amazement and pulled out his wand. "Rack them up, I'll show you."

Estella's eyes narrowed. The Billiards table had been her idea, and yet it appeared that Harry had played a game with her father before she did. Sighing inaudibly, Estella quashed the discomfort in the pit of her stomach - the physical manifestation of the disappointment she felt at not being the first to figure the game out with her father. No one had so much as invited her up to watch, even.

"Estella?" Her father's voice roused her from her thoughts.

"What? Oh, no thanks." she said flatly. "I'm going to groom Buckbeak. He hasn't be fed yet either."

"Sirius and I did that this morning." Harry corrected her. "You weren't up yet, I think."

Another pang of what Estella was quickly identifying as jealousy coursed through her veins, but she covered it up masterfully.

"Oh, well, I haven't visited him for a while." she said lamely. "You go ahead and play."

"All right." said Sirius. "But I intend to use my wand. I'll clean the cue ball afterwards this time though, OK?"

"Fine. Whatever." Estella said dismissively, ducking Buckbeak's room quickly, lest they see the tears pricking her eyes.

* * *

Estella's mood continued to swing with no measure of predictability or rationality. Since they were all a little on edge by the state of the Wizarding world and the restrictive provisions it bestowed upon them, this temperament was readily accepted as an outlet for stress; and was easily dismissed. It wasn't until Estella woke up suddenly in the middle of the night, that the pieces started to click into place. 

"Oh… my… god!" Estella gasped breathlessly, her face heating up in embarrassment.

Living with three childlike males was, for the most part, a barrel of laughs; but it was at moments like this that Estella missed a having woman's touch. Throwing off her blanket and climbing out of bed, Estella grimaced at the discomfort of her predicament; racking her sleep-addled brains for a solution. Fingering her wand in her hands, she cursed the inability to cast a simple discreet charm and considered her other options. With the tactful and sensitive Remus away, and the efficient, if blunt, uncle keeping up appearances with her nemesis, that left Estella with only Harry or her father.

Coming to that grim realisation, Estella groaned. Having only been in her life for the past two years, Sirius often found it hard to remember that his daughter was nearly fourteen, not two. If he (or Remus for that matter) had his way she would never grow up; and the revelation of such an integral part of her development would surely send him into denial. She had no way of knowing how he would handle the situation, let alone if he would be of any help.

Seeing no other choice, Estella grabbed her dressing gown and wrapped it around herself. Exiting her bathroom and crossing her room, she headed towards the hall and reluctantly made her way towards her father's room; avoiding the creaks in the floorboards by memory. Going to Harry with this was just out of the question; whether or not she considered Harry as a friend or as a de facto sibling made no difference as to the sensitivity of the situation. On the other hand, if Harry were a girl…

'_That's it_.' Estella thought to herself in relief, bypassing her father's door in favour of the stairs. '_Hermione… Hermione would know!_'

Luckily for Estella, the Grangers had established a Floo connection shortly after their daughter had commenced her second year at Hogwarts; and so creeping her way inside the Muggle family's home in the dead of night was relatively easy. As luck would have it, Hermione was curled up asleep on an armchair, with her head quite literally in a book. Her parents had evidently decided to leave her as she was, one of them draping a blanket over their bookish daughter before turning in for their own slumber.

"Hermione!" Estella whispered, shaking the girl lightly on the arm. "Hermione!"

"What?" Hermione grumbled, batting Estella's hand away sleepily as she struggled to regain full consciousness. Realising where she was and who was waking her, she jerked awake and straightened in her chair. "Estella? Estella, what is it? What's happened?"

A hurried explanation and embarrassed admission later and Hermione smiled at the younger girl in sympathy.

"It's all right, I understand." said Hermione, rising from her chair and straightening her crumpled clothes. "I'll fetch my mother."

"Oh, no, I don't want to bother her," said Estella awkwardly.

"Don't worry about it, she won't mind." Hermione assured her, tugging at her arm lightly. "Come on up to my room, and I'll find you something to wear."

"Thanks." said Estella humbly, her face flushing with embarrassment when she realised that she hadn't even thought to change.

"Hello Dr Granger." Estella spoke softly as she addressed the elder Granger woman with an uncharacteristic shyness; her arms wrapped tightly around herself as she stood tensely in the centre of Hermione's bedroom, not wanting to sit down.

"Oh you poor child." Dr Granger clucked soothingly, reminding Estella immediately of Mrs Weasley; but in a distinctly less smothering way. "Come along, let's get you fixed up."

"Thank you, Dr Granger. I'm sorry to disturb you." Estella admitted gratefully, allowing herself to be led into the bathroom. "I… I just didn't know what else to do."

"It's quite alright, Estella. I'm happy to help." Dr Granger smiled at her surprise houseguest warmly. "You and that Godfather of yours helped my husband and I immensely in understanding our daughter's world."

"It was nothing, really." Estella assured the woman, uncomfortable of making a grown woman feel indebted to her.

"And so is this." said Dr Granger kindly, nodding affirmatively to drive the point home, before beginning to prescribe a number of Muggle remedies. "…now I know these are Muggle techniques, but they work."

Just then, Hermione walked in behind them bearing a clean set of pyjamas and goblet of potion.

"There's enough here to see you through to the end of summer." Hermione instructed, handing her the goblet. "You'll have to get the ingredients from your uncle or Madame Pomfrey after that. It's utterly degrading how they regulate the distribution like they do to monitor when young witches-"

"Yes Hermione, I'm sure there's plenty of time to discuss Wizarding politics in the morning." Dr Granger cut in. "Young Estella has had a rough night."

"I know, Mother. I was just saying…" Hermione pursed her lips together in a manner that eerily mirrored her mother before her.

"Hermione, love, it's summer." Dr Granger reminded her only child. "Let's save the lessons for another day, hmmm? It's awfully late."

Estella couldn't help but suppress a smirk at Dr Granger's deftness in controlling her daughter's tendency to impart knowledge.

"Oh that's alright, Dr Granger. Hermione is really rather helpful," said Estella. "As a matter of fact, I happen to agree with her. If the potions ingredients were readily available I would have had it on hand and would not be in this embarrassing situation."

"It's nothing to be embarrassed about." Dr Granger pointed out to the blushing child. "Now come along, how about you freshen up and get changed while Hermione and I make a bed up for you in Hermione's room. Hermione, where do you keep the Floo Powder? Estella don't worry about a thing I will have Hermione Floo your house and let…"

"Oh no, Dr Granger!" Estella shook her head vehemently. If her father ever found out she'd left the house, he'd have kittens. Shaking her head even more violently to get the imagery of Padfoot-like kittens out of her head, she cleared her throat. "I… I mean I don't want to wake him. I'll just sneak back in and he'll never have to know-"

"Estella Black! Do you mean to say you didn't tell anyone where you were going?" Hermione shrieked, eyes wide. "After all Harry was telling me before holidays about-"

"Oh come on, what was I supposed to do? Wake him up and say, 'Dad, I've just become a woman and I'm going to duck by Hermione's for some advice.'" Estella rolled her eyes. "He can't even bring himself to believe I am nearly fourteen, let alone-"

"All right, all right, I get the point." Hermione frowned. "Don't you think he might be worried if he wakes up and you're not there?"

"Hermione's right, dear, I think I should call your father and let him know where you are just in case." Dr Granger nodded gravely. "You will have to tell him eventually anyway. I know it must be difficult for you, Estella, but he has a right to know."

Estella groaned melodramatically as Dr Granger left the bathroom, presumably to search for Floo Powder. "Oh why don't I just bleed to death while I am at it!"

"Estella, don't even joke about that." Hermione chided her slightly, pausing on her way out. "Now, hurry up and get changed. I'll 'forget' where the Floo Powder is and buy you some time."

"Thanks, Hermione." said Estella sincerely.

"No problem." Hermione nodded in acknowledgement. "Put your pyjamas in the hamper and we'll trade them back later, okay?"

With her borrowed potion stoppered and tucked inside the pocket of her robe and a Muggle hot water bottle under her arm, Estella stepped back into the Floo feeling ten times better. After a last appreciative exchange with the two Granger women, Estella threw the powder into the fire and sent herself home. She'd barely been gone forty minutes, and was quietly confident that she'd be able to sneak back up to her room and change her sheets without anyone even realising she was ever gone.

How wrong she was.

Stumbling out of the Floo and rolling out onto the hearth of her family's living room, Estella was disorientated to see the room ablaze with light and full of voices. Apparently, in her absence, the house had come to life, tenfold, with many unrecognisable faces tramping through the house and yelling frantic instructions to each other.

"I sent word to our contact at the Floo Network half an hour ago asking for a trace, we should -" a dishevelled looking wizard paced the room analytically.

"Great Scott, she's back!" an equally scruffy looking man spotted her picking herself up off the floor.

Suddenly feeling all eyes on her, Estella noted with a sinking feeling in her stomach that everyone looked as though they had just been dragged out of bed.

"She's back!"

The call out rippled through the house like a wave, causing the distant slamming of chairs scraping across the kitchen floor and a small stampede of feet.

Swallowing heavily, Estella backed up against the shelf, wishing she could just melt into it and disappear. The alarm had so clearly been raised and she had unintentionally caused a lot of people trouble and worry… none so more than her father, who she could hear approach.

"Estella!" Sirius cried out, barrelling into the room looking as though he had just overcome a Dementor with his bare hands. "Oh thank Merlin!"

His feet carrying him across the room and through the sea of people – nameless faces that just seemed to multiply as the room closed in around Estella – in just a few wide strides, Sirius caught his daughter off guard by swooping her into a bone crushing hug.

"I thought I lost you!" he whispered into her ear, his breath catching as he held her as though he was never intending to let go. Then, holding her at arm's length, he searched her eyes in question. "What happened? Where were you? Do you have any idea how worried -"

"I'm sorry… I didn't think you'd miss me." Estella mumbled quietly, unable to meet her father's troubled gaze.

"Estella, look at me." Sirius gripped her chin gently and tilted her head up. "Of course I would notice! Merlin Estella, you are my _life_! I couldn't bear to _breathe_ if I had to face life without you!"

He paused to take his breath and get a handle of his emotions. Waking up to find her gone had rocked him to his core. In the short time he had been in his daughter's life, she'd disappeared more times than he'd care to recall. Not only did this recurrent vulnerability question his ability to protect his child, but he couldn't help but wonder when their luck was going to run out.

"The wards went off when the Floo was activated." he told her shakily, his relief bordered by a residual feeling of panic. "When I found the blood in your room and no other trace of you, I thought someone had-"

"I'm sorry." Estella repeated, flushing.

"So you should be." Sirius snapped, his assurance that his daughter was all right and had never been in any apparent danger making way for his anger. "Where were you? Do you have any idea what you put me through?" Now Sirius was waving his arms wildly, indicating the captive audience. "What you put everyone through?"

"I'm sorry." Estella said a little more firmly, though her voice was trembling.

"Is that all you have to say?" Sirius hissed, his own voice wavering. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

Estella eyed the crowd warily and flushed with embarrassment. Of all the ironies in the world, having gone to such lengths to keep the situation discreet and trauma-free and it turns out to be the most humiliating night of her entire life. She was about to stutter another hopeless apology when thankfully one of the female members of the response team was able to put the pieces together for herself and didn't hesitate to come to her rescue.

"Sirius, perhaps you should discuss this with your daughter _privately_." she suggested, the look on her face imploring him to connect the dots for himself and spare Estella any more humiliation.

"No." said Sirius firmly; shattering the relieved look Estella had shot the intuitive woman. "She got all of us out of bed, so she can explain to all of us just what was so damn important she had to run off in the middle of the night." He turned back to Estella. "This better not be because of a prank, Estella, or so help me I'll really start acting my age."

"It wasn't a prank -"

"Sirius, the Floo Network has just returned word on where the Floo connected to," a weedy looking man with a nasal voice cut in excitedly, brandishing an official looking parchment in his hand as he ran into the room. "Do you know a family by the name of Granger?"

"Granger?" Sirius repeated, nodding at the man before shooting his daughter a questioning look. "You went to Hermione's?"

"Yes."

"Wh…" Sirius' voice trailed off and he looked at her as though seeing her for the first time. "Wait, those aren't your pyjamas! Yours are all animated."

By now, most of the men in the room had been able to piece together the events of the night for themselves, and were staring at Sirius incredulously; amazed that he had yet to get on the uptake. Taking in his daughter's change of clothes, the water bottle in her hand and potion bottle peeking out of the pocket of her robe, Sirius' eyes narrowed. Slowly but surely, the wheels in his mind began to turn as he looked from Estella to the increasingly aware looks of their silent audience.

"Oh." he said flatly, cringing apologetically as he finally understood. "Oh… sweetheart, I didn't know… I overreacted… I should have thought to check with your friends first."

Blushing furiously, the damage already been done – this incident would surely scar her for life – Estella pulled away from her father, tears of humiliation shining in her eyes.

"This is exactly why I didn't tell you!" she hissed, her body trembling with emotion. "I just knew you'd humiliate me!"

"Come now Estella, that's not fair," said Sirius, rubbing a hand over his weary face.

"Why'd you even do all this anyway?" Estella asked irrationally, fatigue and hormones getting the best of her. "It's not like I'm the important one. None of these people could care less if _I_ had been taken in the night. What'd you tell them to get them all here so fast? That something had happened to Harry?"

"Estella!" Sirius was shocked by her tone.

"What? Don't think I didn't hear you lot talking to Dumbledore! Everything was Harry this and Harry that! Got to make sure _Harry_ is kept safe." She was babbling almost incoherently now. "I bet the only reason I am not allowed to _do_ anything is because I might lead danger back here to _Harry_."

"Estella, stop this nonsense at once before you say something you regret." Sirius shook her gently by the shoulders; neither of them noticing that people had began to file out of the room discreetly.

"I've already done that." Estella sobbed quietly, her voice tinged with regret as she began to adjust to the effect of her oscillating hormones. "I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry." Sirius embraced his daughter comfortingly. "I try so hard to be your friend that I forget that I have to be not just your father, but your mother, too."

Estella gave him a quizzical look.

"I'm sorry you didn't think you could come to me," said Sirius softly, kissing her brow. "I may be a man, but I did live with a woman before you were born, you know. I'm not clueless." She shot him a disbelieving look. "Alright, not _completely_ clueless." He considered her carefully. "It appears that Harry isn't the only one who has trouble asking for help from those around him… I would have helped you, Estella. I'm here for that, please don't forget."

"I know. I'm sorry." Estella butted her head against his chest lightly, her eyes lowered in embarrassment.

So wrapped up were the father and daughter in making their amends that they did not notice the departure of Dumbledore's hand-picked response team; let alone realise that Harry had been sitting on the stairs in the hallway, listening to every word. With his shoulders slumped with the weight of the world, Harry's face was drawn and despondent-looking. Had either Sirius or Estella thought to look at him at that moment, they would have seen an extreme look of hurt and confusion on their bona fide family member's features.

When the word had got out that Estella had returned, Harry was, of course, filled with unspeakable relief. In recognising Sirius' need to ascertain her well being for himself, however, Harry found himself holding back - loitering instead in the doorway at a discreet distance as the father and daughter were reunited. As the constant bustle of people trafficking the thoroughfare made him feel increasingly exposed and out of place; Harry retreated to the stairs, away from the crowd. Sirius' worry, as he recalled, was undeniably real and raw with emotion. Even when Estella was lost in the past, he'd not seen Sirius as distraught as he'd been when he tore into Harry's room barely an hour before. Within ten minutes the house had been swarming with what Sirius had rather distractedly told him was 'the old crowd'.

Asides from the odd person staring at his forehead, Harry's presence amongst the mayhem was largely overlooked; and the speculative implication that Estella's disappearance was tied to Voldemort's return had Harry reeling with guilt.

"Why not go directly for the boy?" A gruff voice had argued to his partner, neither men noticing that the said boy had been listening from the shadows.

"It sends a more powerful message going for the girl." The second man countered. "A warning. To unsettle us. Telling us that no matter what we do the boy won't be safe."

Harry shivered violently at the memory, his ears now burning with what he'd overheard Estella say. She had identified the inconvenience of his presence, and she was absolutely right on all counts. With an increasing feeling of guilt, Harry realised just how much Estella had to give up by having him stay, and, in turn, just how selfish he had been. Not only did she have to share her father - whom he did happen to be self-indulgently commanding a lot of time from - but the security measures that had to be implemented for his safety kept her from seeing her friends and having any sort of normal holiday. Flattening his hair over his scar compulsively, Harry wallowed in his self-doubt. Once again it appeared to him that he was imposing on his hosts and was as unwelcome a blemish as he ever was at the Dursleys'. Feeling increasingly foolish as to have actually believed that his Magical 'family' had ever truly wanted him around, Harry reprimanded himself for not realising sooner that it was really all too good to be true and they were only ever acting out of a sense of obligation to his parents. After the unhappiness Estella had just revealed to her father, Harry fully anticipated Sirius to pack him off on a bus bound for Surrey first thing in the morning.

END CHAPTER: Changes

NEXT CHAPTER: Harder Than it Looks


	2. Harder Than it Looks

**Disclaimer**: Still not mine

**Updated**: Friday 19th August 2005

**Beta'd by 3-Legged Dog :-)**

**Chapter 02: Harder Than it Looks**

Estella refused to leave her room for the next two days, preferring instead to mope around in her bed with her hot water bottle (that Sirius had charmed to stay hot) and read her mother's diary. Sirius and Harry, in turn, had been content to leave the delicate girl to her own devices. Both had experienced the wrath of the Ravenclaw's temper when she was of rational mind and had no intentions of stepping a foot wrong whilst she was feeling particularly on edge. Little did they realise that their perceived inaction fuelled the growing dissent in the young child's mind, having an unintended, adverse affect on the girl.

'_Oh look, someone remembers I exist_.' Estella drawled inwardly to herself as her keen ears picked up the cessation of shuffling footsteps behind her door. When the anticipated knock on her door did not follow, however, Estella's eyes narrowed. _Someone_ was outside her door, and yet…

"What are you doing?" A voice Estella readily recognised as her father's hissed to the unidentified presence behind her door; the sound of his footsteps rushing down the hallway to intercept her hesitant guest.

"I just what to look in on her!" Her godfather's voice whined exasperatedly from the other side of the wood. "It's been over a week since I saw her last!"

'_Moony!'_ Estella's mood lifted slightly, but then quickly turned to panic as she took in the neglected state of her room. Snorting dismissively at her own vanity, her nose couldn't help but wrinkle in disgust as she caught a whiff of her own scent. Looking at the door, then down at herself hopelessly, she flushed crimson at what her guardians would think if they found her still wearing the pyjamas Hermione had leant her, lying in stale bed sheets with hair that would make even her uncle want to have a shower.

Ignoring the protestation of her sedentary muscles as she leapt out of her bed, she bound directly for the bathroom. After drawing herself a bath, Estella left the water to run and lingered in the doorway to listen as the voices from out in the hall continued to filter through.

"She's fine!" Sirius' voice sounded strained and defensive. "It was all a misunderstanding-"

"I cannot believe you didn't tell me!" Remus' voice was gruff and tinged with regret. "What if she had really gone missing? When would you have-"

"I'm sorry, all right? How many times do I have to say it?" Estella could hear her father pleading over the steady stream of water filling the tub behind her. "I wasn't thinking straight! I could barely get the words out to tell Dumbledore, the thought of having to tell you she was gone-"

"It's all right, Sirius." Estella could barely make out her godfather's quietly spoken words. "I do understand. I just want to see her, is all."

Upon hearing the light knock on her bedroom door, Estella started from her reverie and slid into the bathroom, out of sight. Toeing off her bed socks and peeling off the pyjamas that had become like a second skin, Estella continued to ignore the increasing insistent knocking on her door and readied for her bath.

"Where is she?" The voices were louder now, closer. The men had evidently let themselves into her room when she had not answered their calls.

"She obviously doesn't want to see anyone." Her father's dejected voice loitered from outside the bathroom door. "We shouldn't have come-"

"I thought you said she was just lying in?" Remus' voice peaked with concern. Estella could picture him looking around her room, piecing the events of the past few days together for himself. "Sirius, don't tell me she's been up here since it happened-"

"Fine I won't tell you."

"Has she even come down to eat?" Remus' voice was laced with worry, and Estella felt herself twinge with guilt.

"I… I…" Her father stuttered sheepishly. "I figured she'd come down when she was hungry. I-"

"Sirius-"

"No, Remus, let me finish." Sirius cut him off gravely, and Estella could hear the tell-tale sound of a weight falling heavily on her chaise. "I don't know what I'm doing-"

Estella couldn't hear what was said next, but the tone in her father's voice was enough to cause her stomach to drop and roll over. Reflecting on the past two days and how she had yelled and banished her father away whenever he so much as knocked on her door, Estella was overwhelmed with guilt. Ever since the events of _that_ night, she came to realise that her father had not been as sure of himself when it came to her. Never before had the man backed down from a challenge or kept himself away from her at her request. Sinking her head below the surface of the water, Estella held her breath for as long as she could, exhaling under the soapy depths and imagining that the ascending rush of bubbles were the anxieties fleeing her mind.

Keeping just her nose above the surface, Estella allowed her mind to drift, the water blocking her ears distorting her sense of both hearing and balance; giving her an almost other-worldly experience. Abstractly, she was reminded of the Tournament's second task, where, in her charmed sleep, she had been able to witness the underwater world around her through the distorted perspective of her pendant. So absorbed was she in her musings, that she had not heard the knocking on the bathroom door. It was not until the muffled sounds of a door cracking on its hinges and a man yelling reached her ears that Estella was aware of the intrusion. She shot her head out from under the water just as frantic hands grabbed at her shoulders. In her panic, she gasped and snorted in a lungful of the disrupted bathwater. The strong hands fumbled at her flailing arms, struggling to maintain a grip on the slippery limbs as she coughed and caught her breath.

"Estella! Are you all right?" Her godfather's concerned voice shook her back to the present, and she resisted his efforts to pull her out of the bubble-filled tub.

"OUT!" she screeched, her face heating up as she sought to preserve her modesty. When were they going to realise that she wasn't a little girl anymore? "GET OUT!"

Remus reeled back in shock, taken aback by the violated look on his goddaughter's face. His ears turning pink, the chastised werewolf backed out of the room stammering an apology, closing the door behind him.

"Told you." Sirius' voice rang out morosely. "Not as easy as it looks, eh?"

Remus muttered something unintelligible, and Estella sank her head back under the water, satisfied that no one would be bothering her for a while. She was halfway through rinsing the conditioner from her hair a few minutes later when she realised that there was still a murmur of voices outside the door. Cocking her head to the side and tapping the water out of each ear in turn, she crawled out of the tepid water and wrapped herself up in a giant fluffy bath sheet, sitting on the porcelain edge to listen.

"You're right." Remus sounded defeated. "We don't know what we're doing."

"I wish Selina were here," said Sirius with a tone of despondency in his voice. Upon hearing the pain in her father's voice, Estella sighed sadly. It was disheartening that those she looked up to didn't know what to do any better than she did; and the thought that she was inadvertently causing her loved ones distress grated at her. Not for the first time, she wondered if having a mother around would make things easier. When she cast her mind back to the time she had spent in the past, however, she found she was unable to reconcile the studious teenaged form of her mother with the adult examples she had glimpsed by observing her friend's mothers. It just wasn't the same.

"Wishing for the impossible won't solve anything," said Remus tiredly, and Estella found she couldn't disagree. "And this… this isn't-"

"I know it isn't, Moony." An indignant Sirius snapped back. "Last summer, why can't things be like they were last summer? This is too hard to do alone. We're all going a little stir crazy in this house, damn it."

"The Muggle media still hasn't-" Remus' voice trailed off. "I'll try to get back more often. Harry's birthday is coming up. I will see about getting the rest of the summer off."

There was a brief silence that followed, and Estella wondered if her father was nodding. "I was thinking of throwing Harry a party. I don't think he's had once since… well, for a very long time."

"What does Estella think of that?" Estella could hear her godfather ask her father diplomatically. Using what she jokingly dubbed his 'Professor' voice, she could tell the man was keeping something back.

"What do you mean?" Sirius' voice echoed off the tiles as it drifted into the room. "It's his birthday. Why would she be against the idea-"

"You have been spending a lot of time with him lately, Sirius."

"What would you know, Remus, you're never here!"

Estella cringed at their testy tones. Voldemort had only been back for a matter of weeks, and already he was turning their lives upside down. Pulling on her bathrobe and wrapping a towel around her wet hair, she was about to remind the men of her presence when what her father said next caused her to halt with her hand on the door knob.

"I think Estella should go away for a few days," he said resignedly, "just until the party. She's feeling it more than Harry or I. You know how she feels about being couped up-"

"What are you talking about Sirius, this is her home!" Remus' voice was sharp and full of warning. "No matter your intent she won't take to the idea lightly. Not without you-"

"I can't leave here, Remus!" Sirius snapped. "My face is too known… in _both_ worlds. I'll only draw attention. Harry too."

"What do you hope to do then, Padfoot? The full moon is coming up, so I can't very well take her-"

"Severus could," her father said quietly, causing Estella to bristle with rejection. The implication that her father would simply palm her off to her uncle at the first sign of difficulty unnerved her. "A little birdie let fly that he's at Hogwarts restocking the infirmary for the next week-"

"She's going to think you're getting rid of her, you know that, don't you?" said Remus knowingly, and Estella could only nod in agreement, relieved that at least someone could see things her way. "Come, let us discuss this downstairs and let Estella come out and get dressed."

Estella jerked red-handedly, stubbing her toe on the doorframe. Biting back a curse, she butted her head against the door lightly when she heard the men leave. She had no doubt that her godfather was fully aware of her eavesdropping and had purposefully steered their conversation elsewhere. Storming out into her room to find the curtains drawn and bed made, her mood lightened slightly at the gesture, and she foraged through her drawers for some clothes. Even though the idea of her father wanting her moody and antisocial self out of the way so he could plan Harry's birthday party chafed at her, she couldn't deny that she felt considerably better now she was up and about. Perhaps then, if she made an effort to be more like her usual self, he wouldn't want to send her away.

No sooner was she dressed and twisting the last twist of the braid in her hair – a style she found cooler on her neck and face in the warmer weather – was there a knock on her door.

It was Tonks.

"Wotcher, baby cousin." The unmistakable guise of her second cousin was unnaturally cheery in the quiet room. Estella, however, was more focused on the food tray in the young woman's hands.

"Hi Tonks," Estella said airily. It was seemingly impossible to remain in a dark mood around the carefree Metamorphagus. Trying to keep her tone casual, she eyed the tray hungrily. A ready supply of Honeyduke's finest could only sustain a girl so much. "What you got there?"

"Ah, thought you might be hungry." Tonks winked knowingly and set the tray down at Estella's desk. "Hurry up and eat, I'm taking you out for a girl's day out."

"A what?" asked Estella through a mouthful of cold chicken. "Not allowed to go."

"You, me, Muggle London…" Tonks said wistfully, before giving the younger girl a careful look. "It's quite safe, I assure you."

"Really?" Estella's face lit up. Her father was right about one thing – she _had_ been couped up far too long. "I'm allowed? Just you and me? Just us girls?"

"Just us girls."

* * *

"My aunt… on my _Dad_'s side… she introduced me to this." Tonks explained as they sat side by side in the day spa, careful not to say anything too revealing in front of their attendants. "Takes so much longer than the, er, way my Mum prefers to, er, do things, but it's nice to feel pampered, isn't it?"

Estella nodded distractedly, finding it difficult to keep a straight face at the Metamorphagi's mud-caked face and cucumber eyes. So far that day they had gone clothes shopping, had lunch, and been given a full body massage. Once they were done with their facials and seaweed wraps, it was downstairs to the parlour for manicures and hair cuts; then more shopping. Personally, Estella couldn't quite understand why a person capable of changing their appearance at a whim was so keen to have their hair styled, but she couldn't deny that all the 'girly' things they'd done to date were just what she needed. Later, as the hair stylist was massaging a moisturiser through her scalp, she even found herself forgetting all about Voldemort and Harry and all the other trivial matters clouding her hormone-driven mind.

"Feel better?" Tonks looked at her knowingly as they traipsed up the street of her home; the few bags they carried deceptively full of shrunken goods.

"Much." Estella smiled. "It was just what I needed. Thank you."

"No need," said Tonks, holding back so that Estella could be first through the front door. "We should do it again some time."

"I'd like that," replied Estella, turning around in her tracks when she sensed the older girl holding back. "Aren't you going to come in? You could stay for tea – I am sure Remus cooked enough for a whole army of Aurors."

"No, but thanks anyway." Tonks shook her head indecisively. Hugging the girl briefly, she then stood back and looked at Estella seriously. "You have to get used to being the only woman in the house."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Estella rolled her eyes, her mind replaying their conversation from earlier in the day. "One day we'll all laugh about it and poke fun at their male stupidity."

"What's this about male stupidity?" Sirius' booming voice caused both girls to giggle as his figure loomed in the open doorway. "Dear _Nymphadora_, you had better not have been filling my daughter's head with rot!"

"I'm sorry, did you hear something Estella?" Tonks said indignantly, refusing to answer to her first name.

"Hi Dad," said Estella, smiling shyly. "I'm back."

"Yes," said Sirius reverently, pulling her into a hug. "Yes you are."

Bidding their farewells to Tonks, Sirius took the bags from both girls and ushered his daughter into the house.

"Thanks, Dad!" Estella wrapped her arms around her father enthusiastically. "That credit card is wicked! You just 'charge' everything!"

"Great, I can't wait to see all these 'charges' on my Gringotts statement." Sirius grimaced, though his eyes could not hide his joy. Having to spend a great deal of his working life living in the Muggle world, Remus was really quite helpful when it came to bridging the gap between the two worlds. He'd never have known otherwise that the Goblins of Gringotts had contacts within the major Muggle banks, enabling account holders to facilitate credit transfers for amenities such as a Muggle Credit Card.

"You… you'll get a statement?" Estella's eyes went wide. By lunch time, she and Tonks had given up on keeping a tally on all that they were spending.

Sirius nodded slowly.

"Well I'll willingly consider my next birthday… and Christmas… presents… for, uh, the next… five years… forfeit." Estella admitted sheepishly, suddenly finding her finely manicured, neon pink nails, very interesting. Absently, she wondered what possessed her to pick a colour that complimented Tonks' hair.

Her father, meanwhile, was laughing heartily. "Don't worry about it!" he said happily. "I daresay my account hasn't seen much action over the past decade – consider it an exercise in making up for lost time."

"Thank you." Estella smiled in relief and hugged her father again. She was not overly familiar with what the exchange rate between the Galleon and Pound were these days, but there was no denying that a seriously large sum of money had parted ways that day. Normally she would have been much more reserved and considerate of what she was doing – her uncle had not been very frivolous when it came to her needs - but with Tonks to guide (or should that be, _mis_guide) her and introduce her firsthand to the therapeutic benefits of 'retail therapy' it was hard to maintain perspective.

"I only wish I could have been there with you." Sirius kissed the top of his daughter's head, noting with a smile that if he had, she probably would have come home with even more. "It's worth any expense to see you looking this happy."

"Well I'll ask you to keep that in mind when you get your Gringotts statement." Estella smirked, wondering just how enthusiastic her father would have been accompanying her into the lingerie store Tonks had practically dragged her into, only to have to drag her out of an hour later. Who'd have thought there was more to underwear than the uninspired necessities the female prefects in sixth and seventh year would regularly transfigure for the younger students?

"Hey, cub." Remus came down the stairs and smiled at Estella uncertainly, their volatile meeting earlier that day replaying in his mind. "Have a nice day?"

"The best," Estella smirked at her godfather. "Tonks took me to all these shops you'd never taken me to. I felt like I was discovering Muggle London all over again!"

"Oh really?" Sirius gave his only child an assessing look before starting to rummage through the bags. "What did you get?"

"Oi!" Estella lunged for the bags and snatched them from her father's hands. Realising by how easy that task was that he had not really intended to rifle through them, she shook her head and shoved him playfully. "Dad!"

"Estella!" Sirius shot back just as exasperatedly. "What, I'm not allowed to see what my hard earned money paid for anymore?"

"Oh, yes, well…" Estella huffed good-naturedly, sorting out a bright blue bag from the pile and handing it to him. "Here are the things you asked Tonks to get for you. It took us most the day, mind you. I think I'll have you deduct a finder's fee from my tab when you get that statement."

"For the last time, Estella," said Sirius in mock consternation. "You could have wiped out my Gringotts account today and I wouldn't mind, truly."

"Yeah, heaven forbid your father might actually have to work for a living." Remus smirked

Sirius waved him off distractedly, taking the proffered bag from his daughter and peering at its dimensions quizzically. "That's all of it?"

"We took, er, frequent trips to the loos to shrink our stuff, silly!" Estella shook her head in amusement. At her father's narrow look, she clarified. "Well, _Tonks_ did. Duh.! What, you think we would have been able to carry all that stuff you asked for? You need a pair of hands just for the-"

Clamping a hand over his daughter's mouth, Sirius cast a wary glance a Remus before shaking his head at his child. "Shhh… he might hear you!"

"Who, Harry?" Estella shrugged, her voice muffled from where it was still cut off by her father's hand. Seeing that he was still obstructing his daughter's ability to speak, he removed his hand. "Where is he, anyway? I haven't seen him for _days_."

"He's upstairs, where he always is." Sirius gestured his head, his eyes coveting the mysterious pile of bags at his daughter's feet curiously. "We'll call him down and then you can show us all what you-"

"I don't think so," Estella said decisively, scooping up her bags and making for the stairs.

"Why not?" Sirius pouted and looked to Remus, who nodded mischievously, the lighter-haired Marauder moving to block the escaping child's path.

"Come on!" Remus pleaded with her. "Did you get any CDs? What did you get?"

Halting in her tracks and glancing back between the two men closing in on her on either side, Estella knew she was trapped, unless…

"I can't show you," she said, taking all her resolve to hide the triumphant tone in her voice. Casting her mind back to the empowering chat she and Tonks had had over lunch, Estella decided to play her trump card. "Secret _women's_ business." Her tone was flippant and casual as she edged towards her godfather, and the stairs. "You know how it is. Now if you'll excuse me, I'd like to take my bags upstairs."

Just as Tonks had predicted, those seemingly innocent three words worked a miracle – both men darted back as though burned and let her pass without hesitation. Biting back the smirk that threatened to reveal itself on her lips, Estella blinked in astonishment at how _easy_ that just was and ran up the stairs before either men could snap out of their trances and realise they'd just been had.

Throwing the bag of her more personal items in her closet and exchanging her Muggle jeans and skinny tee for a more practical pair of corded sweats and an old Muggle t-shirt of her father's she grabbed the bag of goods she wanted to give Harry and headed up to the attic.

"Hey, stranger, you alive?" Estella burst up through the trapdoor to find the room empty. Throwing in the bags ahead of her so that she had both hands free to climb into the room, she closed the trapdoor firmly behind her and made a bee-line for Harry's room.

"Harry, you in there?" she knocked on the door gently, and could hear a rustling on the other side of the door as though someone were getting up to answer her.

Sure enough, the light patter of footsteps led to the door being opened, and an unmistakable, shaggy mop of hair peeking out of the room through a crack in the door.

"I'll be right out." Harry said gruffly, his voice hoarse as though he'd hardly spoken all day.

Shrugging in acknowledgement, Estella turned on her heel and grabbed her shopping bag before sitting on an ottoman and sorting through her purchases. She was still setting out the treasure trove of goods, watching with continued awe as each item appeared out of the bag that, save for the handy spells Tonks had charmed it with, was otherwise too small to hold much of anything.

"I see you were busy today." Harry said dejectedly, eying the growing pile of CDs and other paraphernalia that Estella had laid out in front of her as he trudged across the room to replace the Quidditch magazine he'd been reading.

Seeing the rings around his eyes and the tightness of his jaw, she gave him a sharp look. "What's with you? Why'd you read that in your room? You never-"

"I didn't want to get in your way anymore than I already am," Harry said tersely, pivoting on his heel and making to head back into this room. "I'll leave you to your unpacking."

"Harry! Sit down!" Estella leant out and grabbed his wrist firmly, preventing him from running off. "I came up here to see you, you big lout!"

"Come to gloat, then, have you?" Harry said snidely, his bright green eyes suddenly taking on a darker shade as his mind reconciled the sight before him with the memories of his cousin coming home from similar, all out shopping expeditions.

"Harry James Potter!" Estella shrieked, her mouth gaping open at the implication that Harry would think such a thing. "Why would I gloat when I couldn't even go five minutes today without thinking of you and Dad stuck at home! This stuff is for _you, _you foolish, presumptuous Gryffindork!"

"Oh." Harry said quietly. "Oh."

"Yes, '_oh_'" Estella rolled her eyes. "You're welcome."

"No, I mean, _thank you_." Harry's eyes went wide as he reassessed the pile of things in front of Estella, seeing now how she could have picked them with him in mind. "It's not even my birthday. No one's ever-"

"That's the point then, isn't it?" Estella said in a matter-of-fact tone. "Besides, I'm sure _someone_ spoiled you once upon a time… OK maybe not _recently_; but if how my father just reacted to the volume of things I bought home, I'd wager that he would have found excuses to see you and give you stuff when you were a baby." she paused as she was swept up by a memory. "In fact, between him and James, Lily would not have had a chance of raising you without a swollen head."

Harry looked from the pile of gifts, to Estella's face, and back to the pile again; his mind working furiously to try and conceive what it would be like to be bestowed with such endowments on a daily basis. His cousin, Dudley, immediately came to mind and he shuddered; but then he remembered how much of a balanced and decisive woman his mother was said to have been and he breathed a slight sigh of relief before his breath caught and brow furrowed at the realisation that this was again, one of the things he'd never get to know.

"Yeah, well, I tried to think of what you'd pick if you were there…" Estella continued, waving her hand over the small pile. "As you can see, I couldn't make up my mind… so I decided to play it safe and, er, get it all."

"What… what did Sirius say?" Harry was flabbergasted, his hands idly fumbling through the CDs; recognising some of the artists from the little transistor radio he'd fixed in his old bedroom.

Estella shrugged. "The point of the day was for Tonks and I to do girly stuff, but then I remembered Dad tell Remus that you didn't have much stuff other than school things and how he suspected that would change come your birthday," she deliberately let the sentence hang before adding. "I decided to get a jump start."

At the prospect of having his birthday acknowledged by a houseful of people, Harry looked almost fearful.

"What is Sirius going to do?"

"Don't know." Estella answered honestly, a flat tone in her voice. "He's never had the chance to acknowledge my birthday before. He threw a lot of parties for me last summer, but only he and Moony were there since he was still in hiding and stuff."

Harry nodded in understanding, a strange idea forming in his mind.

"What did your godfather and uncle do for your birthday?"

"You mean did my uncle ever throw me a party?" Estella snorted in amusement. "Merlin, could you imagine?"

The pair sat in appreciable silence, various images flying through their respective minds, causing them to laugh.

"Have to plant that image in Neville's head next time he faces a Boggart." Harry chortled, clutching his sides. "Sorry, I don't mean to laugh at your uncle, but the thought of him coordinating party games is too bizarre."

"For some reason I can't get the image of Gene Wilder leading the children through the Chocolate Factory with his purple suit and cane out of my head." Estella giggled. "Don't ask me why, but I always saw a bit of my uncle in him whenever he'd boss the children around."

"Who, or what, are you talking about?" Harry was puzzled.

"Willy Wonka, you know, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory? A Muggle book they made into a musical?"

"You mean this Willy Wilder or whatever his name was _sings_ as well?" Harry was hardly able to control his laughter. "And you say he reminds you… good Merlin!"

"Just wait until you see the Oompa Loompas." Estella smirked. "You'll never be able to look at the House Elves the same way again without expecting them to turn orange and break out into song."

"Wha-… You know, if it wasn't a Muggle movie, I'd have serious misgivings about the state of the Wizarding World." Harry shook his head, trying to reconcile the images in his mind.

"Who said Roald Dahl was a Muggle?" Estella raised a brow.

"Who-"

"Forget it," Estella shook her head, laughing. "Both the book and movie are lying around the house somewhere if you're interested. Now, what was it we were talking about to get us started on that?"

"Your birthday." Harry recalled.

"Ah, yes, well…" Estella sighed. "Never as eventful as all that."

"How _did_ your uncle celebrate?" Harry was curious.

"Well in the morning he'd get me up early and teach me to prepare a Potions ingredient I hadn't been allowed to handle before," Estella began. "Then after breakfast in our quarters if I didn't have school I'd usually do Potions stuff with him…"

"You had to brew potions on your birthday?" Harry's mouth was agape, memories of past detentions with the man coming to mind as he looked upon the man's niece in sympathy.

"It wasn't all horrid." Estella corrected him. "I am a Ravenclaw, after all."

"So what, you had lessons all day?"

"No, silly!" Estella rolled her eyes. "We'd most always meet Moony in Hogsmeade for lunch, and then while Uncle Sev went to the Apothecary and stuff, Moony would take me to Zonko's and Honeyduke's; and then he and I would have afternoon tea with Hagrid. Lost my first tooth in one of his rock cakes on my fifth birthday, actually. Poor Hagrid was so terrified of my uncle's reaction… took us ten minutes to convince Hagrid that my tooth had been loose for week and had to come out eventually."

"Then what, you went to the Halloween Feast?" Harry asked her curiously.

Estella nodded. "I wish I could celebrate my birthday on a different day, though." she said wistfully. "I can understand why my uncle never really felt like celebrating."

"Why?" Harry asked dumbly.

"Think about it Harry," Estella urged him. "My Mum died giving birth, Harry. The Dark Lord may well have been banished, but for us anyway, everything went to hell."

"Oh." Harry cut her off. "I'm sorry about before."

"Huh?" Estella was caught unawares by this sudden change of subject. "What are you sorry about?"

"How I acted when you came up here." Harry explained. "I was just reminded of my cousin and how he would always show off his stuff and tell me I wasn't welcome."

"Why on earth would I remind you of _that_?" Estella frowned, but then it dawned on her. "Is this about what I said the other night?… Merlin Harry what time yesterday were you born exactly? It was like, what, 3am in the morning and I was having the most embarrassing night of my entire existence… you seriously can't consider taking anything I said with a grain of salt!"

Harry regarded her with a bewildered look. "You mean you don't mind me being here?" he asked. "I'm not taking Sirius away from you?"

"Oh, you stupid Gryffindor!" Estella exclaimed, pouncing on the taller boy and knocking him to the floor in a fierce embrace. "You couldn't take him away from me anymore than I could take him away from you. He'll always be my Dad, just like he'll always be your godfather-"

"But don't you hate having to share-" Harry interrupted, but was cut off once again by Estella.

"Look, I won't deny that it hasn't taken some getting used to," she admitted grudgingly, resting her elbows on his chest, effectively pinning him down. "But I really wouldn't wish things any other way. Even if the Dursleys were the poster perfect Muggles and you wanted to stay with them, I'd want you here. It's kind of neat having a brother-type around, 'cause it can get pretty boring being the only child."

"So what you said the other night-"

"Was just my frustration at not being able to go out and stuff because Voldemort's back." Estella assured him. "It's not you… and before you even _think_ it, Voldemort coming back was not your fault."

"Yes, it was." Harry sighed.

Estella rolled off him and swatted him with a floor cushion. "Was NOT!"

Taken aback by the face-full of cushion, Harry spluttered indignantly and grabbed a cushion to defend himself with.

"Was too!" he said childishly, inwardly riddled with guilt, but eager for the distraction.

"Not-" Estella whacked the side of his face with her cushion, sending his glasses flying.

"Was!" Harry hit Estella in the arm so hard that she stumbled back onto the couch, giving him the chance to retrieve his glasses from the floor and resume a defensive position.

"Was _not_!" Estella continued to bait him, now throwing things at him from where she lay sprawled on the lounge.

Forgoing his cushion, which he had started to use as a shield against the projectiles aimed at him, Harry settled for throwing his weight atop of the lithe girl and tickling her mercilessly.

"Harry! Stop!" she shrieked, gasping for breath as his nimble fingers solicited uncontrollable giggles from her. "Harry! NO!"

"Admit that you're wrong, and I'll stop." Harry said levelly, his eyes piercing into hers sadly.

Suddenly impervious to the fingers lightly dancing around her ribs, Estella's face turned serious and she regarded Harry intensely. "A thousand Crucios would never make me admit that, Harry."

Harry's hands stilled on her hips and he looked at her carefully, a myriad of emotions crossing over his eyes before he finally settled on relief. "You really think so?" he said meekly, inhaling sharply.

"I really _know_ so." Estella assured him, reaching up with one hand to cup his cheek affectionately. "Stop being such a stupid Gryffindor."

"You know," said Harry, pulling away slightly. "You live with three Gryffindors, you might want to reconsider how you regard that house."

"Why? It's an established fact that Gryffindors are blinded by their courage and sickening sense of chivalry that they are habitually landing themselves in strife." Estella smirked, reminding Harry instantly of the girl's Snape heritage.

"Merlin, you sound just like Snape when you do that," Harry shuddered, but then smirked suddenly when he realised the compromising position they were in. "Speaking of your uncle, could you imagine what he'd do if he found us like this?"

"I'd be more concerned with what her _father_ would do." A distinctly male voice growled a few inches from his head, and Harry's eyes flew over the head of the sofa that, to his horror, revealed his godfather looking down at them strangely.

Eyes widening in shock, Harry scrambled to place as much distance between himself and Estella (and incidentally, her father) as possible. So caught up in his actions was he that he overlooked the barely suppressed grin on the dog Animagus' face. When Estella's peels of girlish giggles were matched by the deep baritone of her father's hearty laughter, Harry could only stop and stare at the two Blacks in confusion.

"You should have seen your face!" Estella managed between breaths, clambering into a sitting position. "I hope you were wearing brown knickers!"

"We weren't, we weren't doing anything Sirius, I swear!" Harry continued to look at the man whose image had given half the Wizarding world nightmares for the past two years since his escape. He wouldn't put it past the protective father to be laughing at the thought of castrating a certain Gryffindor Seeker.

"Relax, Harry." Sirius waved off his apology. "You've got nothing to worry about unless there _was_ something going on…" he looked at his daughter and blanched, as though he had just realised that she was approaching the age where she would start taking an interest in boys. The sight of her wearing one of his old, over-sized shirts reminded him specifically of his wife; the distant memory of his wife curled up on that very couch, wearing that same shirt whilst sitting with a heavily pregnant Lily and watching him and James duel causing a thick lump to form in his throat. Their kids were growing up, and he was the only one there to see it.

"Estella-" his scratchy voice regarded his daughter sternly. It wasn't that he would not approve of the situation, he just didn't want it to let go of the image of the little girl in his mind.

"Don't worry, old man, Harry is like a _brother_ for crying out loud." she protested, looking to Harry for confirmation. He nodded in agreement.

"Yes, well…" Sirius looked between the two teens sceptically, his mind replaying the extremely close position he'd found them in. "Just make sure that's all there is to it. I don't want to have to commission a guard to stand sentinel outside my daughter's room at night."

Estella snorted derisively. "Great, so I may as well kiss goodbye to all chances of having circulation in my legs at night." she smirked, referring to the weight of her father's Animagus form as it had encumbered her legs back when he wasn't able to sleep in his human form. Smiling innocently at her father's look of indignation, she continued. "Besides, I don't recall anyone complaining when Harry and I shared the infirmary bed last month!"

"That was different," her father huffed. "I was there."

"I would have thought you'd be rapt with the idea of having Harry as a son-in-law." Estella teased, sticking out her bottom lip for good measure.

"Well, I won't deny that it was something James and I talked about… at length." said Sirius wistfully, a playful glint in his eye. It amazed him to no end how his daughter – just like her mother – was seemingly able to read him like a book.

"You hearing this, Harry?" Estella shook her head in mock disgust. Though she knew her father was just playing along with her, the admission still surprised her, and she was filled with the loss of never knowing how things would have turned out had their families not been torn apart. Her darkening thoughts, were, however, drawn out of their depths by a flippant remark from Harry.

"Yes," he said, exchanging a look with her father that she couldn't quite interpret. "Apparently they all had me trained pretty well… had me calling you 'my baby'. Could you imagine?"

Immediately thinking of that last picture of her mother – the one with the Potters that was taken at Godric's Hollow a week before that fateful Halloween of her birth – Estella smiled. "Coming from a fifteen month old, I'd consider that cute and adorable; but if I ever hear it coming from a fifteen _year_ old without my express consent, then they'd want to keep an awfully close eye on their drinks at the dinner table."

"Estella-" Sirius began to reprimand his daughter lightly on the implied threat. Though he still considered himself a Marauder, he knew from his own past mistakes that it was only ever fun on all sides if you pranked your opponent using skills the other could match. Anything to do with potions, therefore, and his daughter was at an unacceptable advantage.

"Wait…" she cut him off. "Since when does everyone talk about me behind their back?"

Harry and Sirius exchanged a guilty look, each finding respective cracks in the wall a priority. Suddenly reminded of the reason he'd come up to the attic in the first place, however, Sirius' face lit up with recognition.

"Oh, I almost forgot," he said. "Speaking of people talking behind your back, your uncle's been downstairs for the past fifteen minutes."

Leaping from her seat to spin and stare at her father, Sirius was surprised to see his daughter's face glare at him incredulously.

"No." She said firmly, backing away slightly.

"Sweetheart, what's the matter?" Sirius frowned, he'd been certain she'd be happy to see her uncle. "I thought-"

"Yeah well, you thought wrong." Estella shook her head. "I can't believe you want to get rid of me!"

"Estella…" Sirius began before his mind did a double take at her words. "Wait, what are you talking about? Why would I want to-"

"Don't pretend, _Dad_, I heard you and Moony this morning." Estella informed him tersely.

"…and you thought I…" Sirius' voice trailed off and he rubbed a hand over his face in what the teenagers had quickly come to associate as a nervous gesture. "Merlin Estella, whatever you heard… whatever you _think_ you heard… I assure you that I don't want to 'get rid of you'." He cast his eyes over Harry. "_Either_ of you."

"But why is Uncle Severus here then?"

"Estella…" Sirius rounded the couch he'd been standing towards and pulled his misguided daughter to sit beside him. "Just because I may not like being apart from you, it doesn't mean that I would keep you away from your uncle."

"So, he can visit-"

"We all know how that worked out." Sirius looked between the two teenagers. "If you'd rather stay here, I'm not about to force you to do anything… but know that your uncle will be at the school for the next week where it is safe for you to visit with him and he's asked to see you."

"I doubt that." Estella fiddled with an errant bit of hair. Far be it for her uncle to ever ask anything of her father, his former nemesis. "Like he said, I see him all year at school; and I know from experience that he hardly appreciates having me underfoot while he is busy restocking the infirmary and working on his lesson plans."

Sirius sighed and closed his eyes in defeat. "I don't know what happened when you were younger, kiddo," he said carefully. "But I get the impression that your uncle won't take advantage of your presence if you were to go with him now."

"Why would he change?" Estella narrowed her eyes at her father suspiciously. "And since when did you become such an expert on my uncle? You're hardly bosom buddies."

"Nor will we ever be." Sirius admitted. "But that doesn't mean that he and I haven't a mutual understanding when it comes to you." He cleared his throat compulsively. "Let's just say if I were in his shoes I'd be wanting to take advantage of any opportunity I had to see you safely."

"If that was the case then he'd have no problem visiting here then, would he?" said Estella snidely, catching him out.

Sirius scrubbed at his face harder. "Fine," he said shortly. "Don't go. If I only had to think about myself, I'd prefer you didn't anyway… but if you decide not to go, _you_ can tell your uncle why. If he hears it coming from me he'll only think I am turning you against him or some rot and making you stay."

Realisation flooded over Estella like a torrent. "You… you're doing this for him, aren't you?" she screwed her face up in disbelief. "You're not trying to palm me off to him because I've been difficult or annoying?"

"Of course not!" Sirius snapped, pulling his daughter into a fierce hug. "You could be the most obnoxious creature on this planet and I'd still love you to death!"

"Of course you would," Estella smirked into her father's chest, her body instinctively relaxing at the feel of his steady heartbeat. "I'd be just like you if I were like that."

Across from them, Harry snorted in agreement, and Sirius feigned a glare. "Watch it, you." he chuckled, one arm tightening his hold on her so that she couldn't get away as he tickled her with the other. "C'mon, let's get downstairs before that uncle of yours comes looking for us and finds a reason to hex Harry."

Harry blanched. "You… you won't… you won't tell him, will you, Sirius?" Harry stammered, unconsciously edging towards the safety of his room lest his feared Potions Master suddenly materialise in front of him.

"Tell him what, Harry?" Sirius asked him innocently, though the wink gave him away.

"Dang," Estella cursed as she unfolded herself from her father's embrace and stood, headed towards the trapdoor. "I sure hope Uncle Sev doesn't plan on testing me on my Occlumency. It's been ages since I last practiced." She shot Harry a mischievous grin before disappearing through the trapdoor, intent on throwing a robe on over her 'slouchy' clothes before seeing her uncle.

Upon seeing the mortified look on his godson's face, Sirius cast him a sympathetic look and ruffled his hair before following in his daughter's stead, chuckling to himself.

"I… I think I'll stay up here." Harry informed the empty room quietly, before turning on his heels and darting into his room.

* * *

"Good evening, Estella." her uncle stood rigidly in the centre of the living room and addressed her formally as she entered, his eyes casting over her appraisingly as though trying to discover something different about her appearance.

Narrowing her eyes into slits, Estella looked from her uncle, to her godfather seated comfortably in his favourite chair, and to her father, who had entered the room behind her and had to stop himself short, safe colliding with his daughter.

"You told!" she accused him scathingly, turning to face him heatedly.

"Of course I did." Sirius flinched at the objectionable look on his daughter's face. "It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"Easy for you to say." Estella muttered, before turning back around to face her bemused uncle. "Hi, Uncle Sev."

Severus nodded at Estella in acknowledgement, but his eyes were on the man behind her. "I trust you informed Estella of the situation?" he said levelly.

"Uh, not all of it." Sirius rubbed the back of his neck nervously and avoided his brother-in-law's gaze. "I thought it was something we best explained together."

In front of him, Estella stiffened in betrayal, and was about to turn around and object when she felt her father's hands guide her into a nearby chair. After seating himself on the arm of the chair, he wrapped an arm around her shoulder protectively, his hands absently rubbing at her upper arm as though to give comfort. Estella wasn't sure if it was her he was trying to placate, or if he himself needed the reassurance that she was there.

Before Severus could open his mouth to speak, Sirius held up his hand and leant in close to his daughter so as to whisper in her ear. "I'm sorry, sweetheart," he whispered. "But remember, everything I said to you up stairs still stands, OK? No matter what."

"Oh… okay." said Estella quietly, apprehension settling in as she saw the tense looks on the faces of the men around her.

Severus looked from his niece's godfather and father, silently seeking their permission to begin his preamble. Taking a seat rather heavily, he took a deep breath and began.

"In light of… _recent events_… I have requested your presence at Hogwarts." Severus' voice was uncharacteristically coarse and unsure of itself. "Should you not wish to accompany me at this time, I am sure other arrangements could be made to carry out the necessary tests-"

"Tests?" Estella's eyebrows shot above her hairline and she visibly tensed in her chair. "You mean you want to… you want to test my magic?"

It was a long standing ritual amongst the more… _traditional_… magical families to subject their offspring to rigorous and thorough testing once their child had reached magical maturity. For boys, this came either in the wake of their first sexual experience, or at the age of seventeen – whichever came first – whilst for girls, as in Estella's case, the process began at the onset of their first menstrual cycle.

Once upon a time it was widely acceptable, and thus legally mandated, that all children have their magical abilities tested and made a matter of public record. But as the years went on and there emerged a greater instance of magical heritage amongst Muggle blood, the greater Wizarding Society began to take a much more conservative view towards such primitive and degrading methods, and the ritual was no longer enforceable by the Ministry. The days of coercing a barely pubescent boy into magical maturity by instigating his sexual awakening – usually with an equally unwilling female relative – were no longer tolerated, though an archaic by-law placing restrictions on the key ingredients for the potion needed by all magical women to control their magic and alleviate other symptoms during their cycle remained in place; though its purpose of alerting the Ministry of when a young girl came of age was no longer relevant.

Being of old Wizarding stock, both her father and uncle had been subjected to the heinous testing. Lord Voldemort, as her uncle had explained to her in passing once, used the test results as a tool to rank his followers. Given that it was compulsory for the Death Eaters to submit themselves to such assessment, it was understood that her uncle had subjected himself to the testing. The circumstances of her father's testing, however, she was a little more vague about. All she knew was that her grandparents had taken 'extreme measures' and then heralded their firstborn with a celebratory party afterwards so as to gloat amongst their peers about their son's potential. Her father had been deliberately cagey about the details, except to say it was the defining moment that convinced him to run away.

Without even knowing what the tests entailed, simply hearing the words 'testing' and 'recent events' coming out of her uncle's mouth both shocked and terrified her. She wasn't even aware that she'd effectively zoned out until she felt her father shaking her shoulders rigorously and felt her uncle probing at her mind from where his beady eyes levelled with hers from his place kneeling at her feet. In her peripheral vision, her godfather had risen from his chair also, and was making his way over to her; all three men calling her name urgently.

"Estella!" Her father said in relief upon seeing the slight recognition spark in his daughter's eyes. His hands, however, stilled when he felt the flighty child flinch and begin to tremble. "Estella…" he continued soothingly, moving his hands to stroke at her hair in a less threatening gesture.

"You didn't let me finish." said Severus quietly, a pained expression flashing in his eyes ever so briefly.

"Whatever made you think…" Remus sighed sadly, leaning on the other arm of the chair and stilling the small hand he found picking at the threading there. Having caught the scent of her fear from all the way across the room, Remus' voice trailed off as he physically felt her tremble. Noting the glazed look returning to his goddaughter's eyes, he addressed the other two men in the room in a low tone. "Perhaps we should have approached this in a different manner. She's positively terrified."

"What did you say to her upstairs, Black?" Severus snapped at his former nemesis without thinking.

"What did I say?" Sirius was immediately on the defensive, his judgement addled by the all-consuming worry that was clouding his brain at that moment. "What have you done to her in the past that would make her think you'd-"

"I don't know." Severus bit back, though if one were looking closely they have seen a flash of self-doubt reveal in his eyes before slipping back behind the mask.

"Stop it, the pair of you." Remus growled at them in what the Marauders had once dubbed his 'alpha' voice. Upon gesturing to the child between them in emphasis, the two men went obediently quiet. "Now," he continued, casting each man a stern look in turn. "Irrespective of what Sirius did or did not say upstairs, I get the impression that whatever was said did not prepare her for this eventuality. Sirius?"

"You were supposed to prepare her, Black-"

"I was going to!" Sirius scowled and wrapped his arm around his unresponsive daughter possessively. "But I had to change tactics… she thought I wanted to 'palm her off to you' because she thought I didn't want her around-"

"Oh really?" Severus cut in, regarding his brother-in-law with a smug gleam in his eyes as he mirrored the man's earlier words. "What have you done to her in the past that would make her think you'd want to get rid of her?"

Sirius flinched violently and would have physically pounced on the goading Slytherin before him if it weren't for the matter of his daughter and a piece of furniture in his way.

"Severus, Sirius, please!" Remus could hardly keep a hold of his anger. Though the child before them was lost in her thoughts, he was not unaware of the scent of distress radiating off her body. Feeling overly protective towards the child he practically raised, it was a scent that was always guaranteed to solicit a retaliative response from him; and from where he was standing, it was the two men before him who had caused his cub this emotional pain.

"She wouldn't even come down until I assured her that I didn't simply want to get rid of her." Sirius gritted between clenched teeth, a nerve in his jaw twitching. "What was I supposed to do?"

Before either men could answer the father's desperate plea, Estella inhaled sharply and went as still as stone.

"Stop talking about me like I'm not even here." she said lowly, her eyes resembling cool glaciers as she regarded each man in turn. "Someone better start telling me what the hell is going on here."

Seeing that the other two men were too busy trying to quell their respective emotions and push aside their past animosity – something that was still prone to habitually reveal itself no matter their intentions – Remus took charge.

"Your uncle was referring to the, uh, events in June." he said softly, his hand seemingly doing miraculous wonders in calming the child as he brushed away the hair in her face. "We're all a little worried that it may have left lasting effects."

"You think I'm crazy, is that it?" Estella accused him quietly, the hurt tone in her voice stabbing at his heart. "Has it really been that long since you've seen a girl with PMT?"

Remus laughed in spite of himself, his amused eyes avoiding the withering look his goddaughter shot him in response. Leaning back, he motioned for someone else to continue; and having the most authority on the matter, Severus cleared his throat.

"Those potions Lucius gave you-" Severus began vaguely, though no one present needed to ask him to clarify.

"What about them?" Estella's voice was short and impatient, but her eyes revealed unbidden curiosity.

"I…" Severus swallowed audibly and tore his eyes away guiltily. "I created them."

"So?"

"I know what they did to you…" he paused. "I know what they _should_ have done."

"Yeah, but Fawkes-" Estella reminded them all.

"What Fawkes did was a miracle." Sirius' voice was shaky as he squeezed his daughter's shoulders in reassurance.

Beginning to relax under her father's ministrations, Estella began to realise just how clingy the man had been since he had gone up stairs to fetch her. What was it that her uncle had told him that made him so reluctant to let her out of his sight? He had been trying to reassure himself that she was all right ever since she walked into the room, and now his voice was beginning to waver. Even Remus was absently petting her hand as though she might disappear without the contact.

_What on earth was going on?_

"You don't think Fawkes helped?" Estella sought clarification.

"For all intensive purposes, Fawkes ensured you a full recovery." Severus assured her, though Estella could tell he was holding something back.

"But you think it's too good to be true." Estella stated knowingly.

"Those potions… they were designed to destroy the body's ability to heal itself." Severus grimaced slightly at the memory of when he'd presented the concoction to a very pleased Dark Lord. "It would have rendered you immune-deficient, and you would have succumbed to the slightest infection."

"But it didn't, and it hasn't." Estella informed him slowly, drawing out each word as though her audience had trouble understanding her. Upon seeing the looks on their faces, her eyes widened. "Does this have anything to do why you haven't let me out of the house until today? Dad?"

"Not directly." Sirius admitted dismissively, though he wasn't about to explain further for his attention was too taken by what Severus had yet to say. "Severus…"

"It was recommended by several people that you be kept under close observation." Severus admitted. "Phoenix tears are not given freely, and so this situation is quite unique."

"What your uncle is trying to say is that no one was sure if the healing effects of the Phoenix tears would last." Remus continued to pat at her hand, and she batted him away irritably.

"Why didn't anyone tell me?" Estella whispered. "I had a right to know."

"We didn't want to worry you unnecessarily." Sirius told her. "We were advised that stress could trigger a relapse."

"And yet here we are…" Estella cocked a brow.

"You misunderstand." Severus shook his head impatiently and rose to his feet to pace the room. "You are no longer at any conceivable risk. I simply wish to run an analysis of your immune system to see if the Phoenix tears left any antibodies that could help develop a treatment for the effects of the potions."

"You mean to say you developed a potion like _that_ without developing a antidote?" Estella was incredulous, inwardly shuddering at the memory.

Severus looked uncomfortable. "I… well I wasn't in the Headmaster's employ at that time." he said rather pointedly. "It is one of my… _many_ regrets."

"So you're basically asking me to help you make up for it, then?" Estella raised her brows expectedly.

"Well I wouldn't put it _that_ way." said Severus gruffly.

"I would-" Sirius muttered under his breath, earning a glare from two members in the room.

Ignoring his brother-in-law's slip, Severus continued. "I think of it more as making the most of a uniquely advantageous situation."

"Now that's a Slytherin response if I ever heard one." Estella smirked.

"Would you expect anything less?" Sirius snorted, kissing the top of his daughter's head in relief.

Nodding acceptingly, Estella took stock of the situation. If it was true that the men in her life had only wanted her to undergo testing to assist in the development of a antidote, then it would not explain her father's earlier clinginess and reluctance to impart information. On the other hand, she wouldn't put it past her uncle either to exaggerate the situation to her father – leading him to believe, for instance, that she was still prone to the potion's effects – to spur him to action. It was entirely possible that in reassuring her of her health, her uncle was informing her father of that fact for the first time. Then again, if that were the case, then her father surely would not have let her uncle's apparent deception go unchecked.

"There's something else, isn't there?" Estella asked them cautiously. They shook their heads, but Estella knew better.

"Malfoy doesn't know I recovered, does he?" she asked quietly, the pieces falling together in her mind.

The men looked at each other uncomfortably, and Remus subconsciously resumed his petting of her hand. This time, she didn't brush him off.

"He is still of the impression that you have developed a dependency to the potion." Severus confirmed. "Had Fawkes not assisted you, your body would not have been able to fight infections without it."

"Yet it still wouldn't have healed me of my injuries either." Estella concluded for herself, shivering outwardly at her uncle's former malevolence.

The simple idea that a single potion could both suppress a person's immune system and render all other restorative and rehabilitative potions useless was enough to make her skin crawl. Her uncle's frantic words as he bypassed the infirmary in favour of Dumbledore's office that fateful night came to mind.

"You, you suspected Fawkes would be able to-"

"I had my suspicions…" Severus gestured with his hand. "…my hopes." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "But-"

"Fawkes doesn't give his tears freely, right?" Estella completed, for the first time realising how lucky she was that the Phoenix had chosen to help her. She made a mental note to familiarise herself with the magical creature's properties once she got back to the school.

"What your uncle is saying, Estella," Sirius cleared his throat nervously. "Is that Malfoy has become rather suspicious-"

Estella's eyes widened in alarm. Had her uncle been exposed as a spy? Catching the worry in her eyes, Severus moved to set her straight.

"He is not _suspicious_, Black. Don't put words in my mouth." He said curtly, before looking at his niece. "He has concluded that I am feeding your new potions habit and is quite displeased that you have not become dependent on him as was his plan. Very few people within the Dark Lord's circle know how to brew the Potion, and all those outside it are not aware of its existence."

"What does that mean for you?" Estella's voice ghosted above a whisper.

"Nothing. Lucius Malfoy is but a spoiled child who is sulking because something didn't go his way." said Severus dismissively, and Estella had to bite back a grin at the imagery of a grown man having a child's temper tantrum.

"What… what about your-"

"My position is not compromised." Severus assured her. "The Dark Lord appreciates that no matter our recent _estrangement_, it would appear suspicious if I were to desist displaying a vested interest in your welfare… particularly since I must appear to be in allegiance with the Headmaster."

"So will I have to do anything during the term to appear as though-"

"I doubt so." Severus said darkly. "As far as I am aware, all those subjected to the potion are deprived of the potion and left to die after a week."

Estella gasped, and Remus stopped petting at her hand in favour of gripping it tightly in her own. She looked at him in question.

"What your uncle is trying to say is that there has been no precedent set for people who have developed a long term dependence on the potion." Remus informed her. "So they don't really have any way of knowing what sort of quality of life the potion would inevitably afford you."

"Thank you very much, Lupin; but I am quite capable of talking for myself." Severus intoned somewhat congenially. "Now I don't mean to impose, Estella, but I would like an answer."

"An answer? What was the question?" Estella furrowed her brow in confusion, her mind mentally going over the conversation.

"Do you wish to spend the week at Hogwarts, and can I expect your cooperation in my research?" Severus asked of her slowly, an almost patronising tone to his voice.

Glaring at him slightly, Estella could see that he was growing impatient. If she didn't know any better, she'd suspect that he was concerned with running into Harry the longer he stayed … almost as though the thought of seeing Harry in his leisure time was the worst thing imaginable.

"I thought you didn't mind being apart from me for a few weeks over summer when you see me during the year?" Estella echoed her uncle's words from the previous week, her arms crossing over her chest in classic Snape fashion. "That I would only be underfoot?"

"I do not wish to get into this now, Estella." Severus said shortly, eying the other two men warily and crossing his own arms across his chest defensively. "Either you will come or you will not. If you have not an insight into my intentions by now then I have truly underestimated you."

At that comment, Sirius was glaring so much at the man, that he faced the risk of going cross-eyed. As though feeling his icy grey gaze on her uncle, Estella looked over her shoulder at her father and rolled her eyes in an effort to ground him. Seeing her reaction to her uncle's stiff rhetoric, Sirius exhaled slowly and patted her shoulder reassuringly, a small smile on his lips. Though they had parted ways at the beginning of summer on good terms, it was all too easy for either man to respectively lapse into old habits.

Reading the unspoken message of support, Estella looked from her father to her uncle and nodded slightly. "When do we leave?"

END CHAPTER

Next Chapter: Secrets

Due: Any time on or after 2nd September (wish it could be sooner, but unless someone out there is willing to do two 3,500 word case studies on public sector reform (blech) andvolatile climate of the publishing industry ('nicer' topic, but hardly encouraging) my limbs are tied.)


	3. Secrets

**Disclaimer: See Chapter One**

**Updated Sunday 4th September 2005**

**Beta'd by 3-Legged Dog**

**Chapter 03: Secrets**

Contrary to what she had thought, all her uncle had required of her in the formulation of his research into an antidote was a sample of her blood. When she had expressed concern about her ongoing commitment to then supply her blood as an integral ingredient to the potion, he had assured her of his ability to synthesise the antibody – if indeed any were present in her blood – and reproduce it for himself. Though such methods were not generally ideal for potions that required blood or bodily tissue as a defining ingredient, this situation, as he explained to his niece, was different in that blood did not inherently form the foundation of any perceived antidote - it was just certain perceived qualities in her blood that he was hoping to isolate.

With her uncle subsequently absorbed in analysing his data and annotating his research, Estella was, for the most part, left to her own devices. Though she was fully competent with potions and could probably have assisted the man in some way, she found that it was something that no longer brought her any joy. On some level, she suspected it was because of the memories she had of Lucius Malfoy force-feeding her the dark potions, that she no longer had a nose for certain ingredients. As if he had drawn that same conclusion, her uncle did not press her to accompany her in the lab, or object when she submitted a desire to spend her time in the library.

Though Madame Pince was away on holiday, Estella encountered no difficulty in navigating her way around the library in her search for a book on Phoenixes. Both her godfather and mother had been entirely helpful in teaching her handy charms to assist with research. What summoning and locating spells she hadn't learnt from her mother in the past, she was fast becoming acquainted with in her mother's diary entries.

After having glossed over the tome over Christmas break, Estella did not study the journal at length until Harry had arrived a few weeks previously. Being such an avid reader, she'd canvassed the text within a few days, but the information contained therein was still struggling for purchase in her mind. She had so many questions, but knew she had no recourse for answers. There were certain things, she was sure, that Harry had a right to know, but given her source, it was not her place to disclose what she knew.

_Yet._

There was, after all, a right time for everything, and for now she was resolved to learning more about Phoenixes. No sooner had she heaved a dusty tome from a top shelf, however, was she interrupted by an insistent tapping against the window.

It was an owl.

Instantly curious as to why the owl did not retreat to the Owlery to wait until the scheduled delivery times, Estella opened the window and let the owl in. Though she did not recognise the owl, she knew that if her uncle was locked in his lab and the owl bore urgent news for him, it would have due cause to seek her out in his stead. To her surprise, however, the letter was not only addressed to her, but it was sealed with the Malfoy crest.

Having had it instilled in her from a very young age, Estella knew not to accept any unsolicited mail without taking the proper precautions. Taking out her wand and casting some of the first charms she had ever learnt, Estella did not touch the innocent looking envelope until she was satisfied that it both held no hidden hexes or spells, nor was from any of the elder members of the Malfoy family. Magically detaching it from the owl's leg and opening the thick, fine grade parchment with a flick of her wand, Estella let out a breath she didn't realise she'd been holding; her eyes confirmed the sight of Draco's distinctive hand.

Reading through the letter once, then again for good measure, Estella leant back in her chair in consideration. As opinionated as Draco's words were in regards to his father's actions, the attentive Ravenclaw could not overrule the possibility that Draco was acting now as an instrument of his father. The boy's devotion to his father and sense of familial duty was never denied. The young Slytherin so much as admitted his disdain at the motives driving the Malfoy head to do what he did, though he did not seem to disapprove of Lucius' means.

'_My Father is ruled by his pride.'_ Draco wrote. _'I regret that it is his one flaw. To be so readily baited by one's weakness is utterly deplorable; and it is unfortunate that you drew his ire.'_

The letter went on to reiterate what Draco had said to her after Christmas – about understanding her duty to ally herself with her father's beliefs and not holding her personally accountable – and added his well wishes for her recovery.

'_My Father shared with me his memories of your defiance. I believe his intent was to serve as a warning to ensure my allegiance. Having seen what happened to you, I can now appreciate why you did not return to classes upon your return. It is also my wish that this letter finds you well.'_

Despite its sincerity, Estella could not help but feel that perhaps Lucius was coercing Draco to ply her for information about her condition. She decided then and there to be deliberately vague in any response… and she _would_ respond, she resolved, as it would be extremely rude not to at least to acknowledge the correspondence.

Reading through the last line of the letter, Estella had to bite back a smirk.

'_Loathed though I am to admit it, I find I have developed a new found appreciation for Scar Head. The Dark Lord acted rashly when he cast the Killing Curse at you, and had Potter not done what he did, I think the Dark Lord would have come to regret denying himself the potential benefit that your service could one day still bring.'_

"He's dreaming." Estella exclaimed to the empty room, casting aside her books and fumbling for some parchment to write a reply. Draco's candour at dispelling the Dark Lord's actions as 'rash' had her curious. Such judgement of a tyrant like Voldemort would be seen as treasonous to the loyal, so either Draco was spectacularly arrogant and stupid to think that the rules did not apply to him, or he trusted her with his personal reflection. Narcissa, from what her uncle had told her, had a reputation for lacking discretion around her closest family and friends. It was a matter of some private speculation between Severus and Lucius that the loose-lipped woman's biological father had likely been in Hufflepuff.

Being raised by a Slytherin had its merits. Estella could see right through Draco's sincerity and identify the boy's undertones of self-preservation. Of all his potential suitors, Estella knew that she was the only one he could stand; and if her uncle's revelation that Lucius had only wanted to control her, not necessarily kill her had any meaning, then the Malfoy patriarch had not written off the value of her bloodlines either. That Draco was outright contrite and blasphemous in daring to question Voldemort's actions, could very well be a ploy to establish a false sense of trust.

On the other hand, Estella suspected that, like her, Draco had been raised in an equally isolating environment and could simply be reaching out to the one person he identified with most. Though her uncle had delayed their meeting for as long as possible, Estella couldn't help but get the feeling that Narcissa – if not Lucius as well – had conditioned their son from a young age to not only accept her as his equal, but acknowledge their compatibility. Whilst Severus' preparation had bordered more on warning her against taking the family at face value, it did not stop her from sympathising with the precocious, but lonely, boy. For while it was true that she did not like his spoiled attitude and constant preoccupation with class and superiority, it had not taken her long to recognise these traits as projective masks to cover for a hidden insecurity. It could also be said, therefore, that he was simply confiding in her.

If anyone asked Estella how she felt about the albino-haired Slytherin, she'd honestly tell them that he was an arrogant, self-important, nasty piece of work, but she'd never admit to hating him. Draco Malfoy was, after all, the only young person she met growing up who not only was unaffected by her uncle's imposing presence, but he didn't ever treat her as inferior or tease her for having no parents. No matter the pretences she had to employ when around him, no matter how he treated others… his acceptance of her at a time when no one else would even look at her without seeing what her father supposedly did or what her uncle was like, ensured the young Slytherin due consideration. Save treating Draco the same way as her uncle looked at Harry, she knew she owed it to the blonde to keep objective.

Penning the owner of the waiting owl a quick, and suitably ambiguous reply – for Estella was loath to lie outright – Estella charmed the letter with a privacy charm (to ensure only Draco could read it) and attached it to the compliant owl's leg. Draco had quite evidently expected her to reply, else he would not have instructed the owl to await a response, and she didn't even want to think of what would happen to her owl if it tried to get through the wards around the Malfoy Manor. Whilst there were many repellent charms to prevent mail reaching recipients in a heavily warded property, she wouldn't put it past a dark wizard like Lucius Malfoy, to resort to equally dark methods to stop mail from finding him.

Harboured by an idea as she watched the graceful bird fly away, she packed up her books and made her way out of the library. One of the benefits of visiting her uncle at the school was her ability to do magic during the holidays. With Harry's birthday coming up and the realisation that her father would more than likely amply provide the boy with everything money could buy, Estella was resolved to find him a gift that was distinctly more… _unique_.

Since her family's home in London was in the middle of a Muggle neighbourhood, Estella was safe in the knowledge that Harry would not miss his broomstick for a few days. She had, of course, replaced it on his wall with her own broom. So long as her father didn't get any bright ideas about flying in Muggle London or Harry didn't feel compelled to polish it, she would be able to switch the brooms back without anyone even knowing she'd borrowed Harry's.

The plan was, invariably, to use the knowledge Benson Ollerton had indirectly bestowed upon her to improve upon the aerodynamics and strengths of the already state-of-the-art broomstick Harry had been given just over a year previously. She'd already spent much of her time whilst back at the school, unencumbered in her room as she worked; but now the question as to whether or not the broom was now functional, begged to be answered.

In theory, Estella knew what the charms she had added to the broom ought to do, but the fear that the broom company had imbued their product with an undetectable anti-tampering fail safe was a very real threat. She was also unsure how the broom would react with the additional magic upon it because, unlike the older brooms she had upgraded for her father and godfather over Christmas, the Firebolt was already of a singularly complex design; she didn't know how much more magic a broom could take without becoming volatile.

Short of letting anyone in on her intended surprise, she realised with stark clarity that she was the only one who could fly the broom; both because she had the most knowledge on what it as now supposed to do and because the only other person within a physical vicinity that she could ask was her uncle. The thought of him assisting her with a birthday gift for Harry was unfathomable. Harry's Firebolt would surely end up in the fire faster than one could say 'Quidditch'.

"Well, it may be something you already have in principle, Harry," Estella grumbled as she mounted the broom in the middle of the Quidditch Pitch. "But you'd better bloody well appreciate the gesture!"

Kicking off nervously, Estella began her first ever unsupervised flight, and in short, she was absolutely terrified. Taking an analytical approach, however, Estella was able to methodically run through the list of amendments she needed to test in her mind, and set her fears aside. Years of assisting her uncle brew potions that required a high level of structured discipline and mental focus, ensured that she was able to occlude the fear from her mind and concentrate on the task at hand. So focused on her goal was she, that it didn't even register in her conscious thought that she had actually begun to enjoy herself – deliberately testing each function exhaustively so as to stay up there longer than necessary.

Being the only child on the school premises, the presence of her form zipping across the Quidditch Pitch and beyond as she whooped and screamed with mixed emotions was bound to draw some attention. McGonagall and Dumbledore, she surmised, must have seen her from their respective office windows and come running. She knew she'd terrified poor Hagrid when she whistled past him at a low altitude as he worked on the Strawberry fields.

Before she could even contemplate where he'd come from, a rather ticked off Severus Snape was airborne and flying towards her. His school-issued Cleansweep, however, was old and no match for Harry's modified Firebolt. When, to her surprise, her uncle fired an '_Impedimenta_' at her broom, intent on slowing her down, she was pleased to note that the repellent shield charm she'd layered into the broom's defences absorbed the minor jinx without effect. Throwing a smirk over her shoulder and taking in her uncle's look of shock, Estella sped up and gained altitude, intent on testing out the anti-gravity failsafe. Ironically, it was a charm her uncle had taught her to spell her Potions equipment with, to save them from smashing, if they fell off the table. In theory, the same charm applied to a broom would prevent it from crashing into the earth, automatically pulling the rider up from their collision course a safe distance from impact.

Given Harry's propensity for pulling off the Wronksi Feint, it was important that this added charm to his broom didn't pull the flier up too soon, thus disabling the ability to pull off the feint. Because she did not have much faith in her own ability to pull up in time otherwise, it was, incidentally, a theory she was least willing to test. With Dumbledore watching from the sidelines, however, and the memory of how he had saved Harry from grave injury following his fall in his third year, she knew she would be safe no matter the broom's effect.

When the broom negated all attempts of its grounded audience to slow it down as it hurtled towards the earth at a seemingly out-of-control pace, only to swiftly pull up inches from the ground and continue along a horizontal path in a dizzying barrel roll, Estella didn't know what was more surprising: that the anti-gravity charm had worked, or the fact that the attempts of one of the most powerful wizards alive to stop the broom had failed. That is, assuming he actually _tried_…

The broom eventually unwinding from its horizontal spiral and coming to a rest on the grassy knoll at the far end of the Pitch, Estella rolled off her broom and flopped out on the grass, content to watch the world continue to spin around her, lest she succumb to motion sickness. It did not occur to her, at the time, that this position was, to the approaching adults, eerily similar in location to how she had returned from Voldemort's clutches – a memory, if her uncle's reaction was anything to go by, was still too raw.

"What were you _thinking_?" Her uncle, having been on a broom, reached her first and didn't hesitate to pull her into a sitting position and shake her by the shoulders angrily. "You foolish, stupid child!"

Dizzy with disorientation and her mind intoxicated by the adrenalin rushing through her veins, Estella brushed off her uncle's tone and smirked. "I just made the world's best broom better and you're calling _me_ stupid? That's rich."

Giving a double take at his niece's uncharacteristic display of arrogance, Severus blanched and recoiled in disgust. "Arrogance!" he snapped, spittle landing on his chin as he spiralled into embittered memories. "Your father's influence is apparent."

"Oh leave her alone, Severus," the clearly impressed voice of Albus Dumbledore cut in from behind, both he and the Deputy Headmistress joining them on the knoll. "That was quite an impressive show you put on there, Estella. Do try to warn us next time."

Estella nodded dumbly, not quite sure how to take the twinkle in the calculating Headmaster's eye.

The long walk back to the castle was, therefore, somewhat amusing for Estella as she watched the conflicting emotions pass over each adult's face. While her uncle was almost shaking with the exertion of keeping his baser instincts in check, the conversely older – and therefore wiser – Headmaster was openly encouraging of her accomplishment and equally goading of her uncle's aversion.

"Don't worry about your uncle, Estella," Dumbledore leaned down slightly and whispered in her ear in a voice that was still able to carry the distance between all four of them. "He is most likely feeling sour by the threat your addition to the Ravenclaw Quidditch team next year will have on his Slytherins."

Beside them, McGonagall chuckled warmly, surprising Estella with her congeniality. For years she'd been so accustomed to the woman going to deliberate lengths to not develop an attachment. That her father had been one of her favoured Transfiguration students and subsequently thought to have betrayed the Potters – and the Wizarding World – weighed heavily on the sternly woman's perceptions of her; so it was conversely difficult to associate the woman with being anything more than stern and unforgiving with her. The one thing that was blatantly apparent in the wake of recent revelations, was that the older woman's deeply-seeded sense of Gryffindor morality had the witch just about falling over herself in her rush to repent.

Having a better understanding of Gryffindors than one would think a Ravenclaw raised predominantly by a Slytherin would, Estella knew instinctively that the woman's overtures were genuine and sincere. After overhearing her father's irate Floo call with the Headmaster the day he'd discovered how horrible the Dursleys were to Harry, Estella was surprised to learn that McGonagall had been keen to take Harry in herself. Knowing that, she couldn't help but think how her formative years would have been like if, like the woman's continued reverence for James and Lily, McGonagall's opinion towards her father had not been changed. As much as she couldn't deny how curious she was to have a caring, grandmotherly sort in her life, Estella knew that no matter what her Transfiguration Professor did in future, the opportunity to forge that kind of bond had passed them by. The sad look in the said woman's eyes, therefore, was likely a sign that she too was aware of this fact.

"Your father and godfather both would be thrilled to see you flying so fearlessly." The old woman informed her, a sad tinge of regret lacing her voice. "Terrified for your safety, yes, but proud."

"With all due respect, Professor," Estella turned to the woman, noting how she flinched slightly at the title. "I _was_ terrified."

The added tightness of the woman's jaw confirmed for Estella that the Gryffindor Head was plagued by her regrets and was inwardly lamenting over what could have been. Touched though she was by the gesture, Estella felt no need to dwell on the issue – she'd never envisioned being anything less than at loggerheads with this woman, so the mere instance that they were able to have a civil conversation exceeded all of her expectations.

"Why on earth did you do it then?" Her uncle's snappish voice drew her from her thoughts and she blinked at him in confusion.

"I did what I had to do." She said carefully. "Much like how you would subject yourself to an untested potion to note its effects."

"That's different." he snapped. "I operate in a controlled environment! I am insulted that you would even think to compare my valid research with your folly!"

"If there is no comparison to be made," Estella glared at her uncle, a smug tone in her voice. "Then it is ironic that the anti-gravity charm I was testing was one _you_ taught me to use in the Potions Lab!"

Giving his chuckling colleagues a withering look, Severus accosted his niece in a defensive tone. "I do not tolerate wand play in my classroom." he reiterated a firmly established fact in front of his peers, with the intent to misdirect them into believing he could never have taught her the charm in question.

"Yes, but we weren't in your classroom, now were we?" Estella reminded her uncle, a challenging lilt to her voice. "I was eight and we were in your private lab. You taught me that charm to prevent breakages as I was learning the potions least effected by indirect magic."

"Perhaps," her uncle hissed, his dark eyes flashing dangerously at her as he stared at her in repulsion, "in the interests of your health you will be best served to return to London momentarily."

At that, the defeated Potions Master stormed off, all long strides and dark robes, leaving a stunned pair of Gryffindors and bemused Ravenclaw in his stead.

"Oh come on," Estella shook her head at her companion's agape jaws. "He didn't mean that."

"How can you be so sure?" Professor McGonagall asked of her dryly.

"He's my uncle. I've lived with him most of my life." Estella informed the disbelieving woman, incredulous at her continued ability to take people for face value no matter her own past mistakes. "You can't actually believe he'd be capable of hurting me."

"Estella is right, Minerva." Albus Dumbledore smiled at his colleague reassuringly. "Severus may be a difficult person to understand at the best of times, but I trust him implicitly and have no more reason to question the safety of his niece in his care anymore than I ever did in the past."

"I know, Albus." Minerva sighed, smiling weakly at Estella by way of a belated apology for years of not caring how the feared Potions Master's social skills affected his niece. "It's just that it unnerves me how cold he can be some times. I don't know how the students don't just run out of his classroom screaming…"

"An Impenetrable Charm on the classroom door." Estella said simply, sniggering when she caught both teachers by surprise. "I'm _joking_! Honestly, you Gryffindors are far too trusting."

"Yes, well even so, young lady," Albus smiled appreciatively at Estella's coup. "I don't think you will disagree with me in saying that your uncle could use some 'alone' time to cool down. Perhaps you should detour past my office and join Minerva and myself for a spot of afternoon tea on your way back to your quarters. Minerva, is that arrangement agreeable with you?"

"Of course, Albus." Minerva responded all too quickly, and Estella's mind was inexplicably filled with the image of a cat leaping to protect one of it's litter from a predator. "I'm sure there's a story or two we could impart on you child, that will serve a reminder to your father should he ever decide to react harshly to the news of what you accomplished today."

"I think I'm pretty safe against retribution from my Dad," Estella said, smirking. "Had he seen it for himself he might have been a bit like my uncle back there… I won't say no to some ammo over tea though."

"Ammo?" Albus questioned, his tongue rolling over the unfamiliar slang like it was a newly discovered sweet.

"Ammunition." Estella clarified. "You know… the dirt? Evidence to 'remind' Dad of his past misdoings should he ever catch me doing anything remotely similar?"

"Ah, very well then." said Albus, seemingly disappointed that Estella hadn't been talking about a sweet.

"But don't for one minute think that we would condone such behaviour from you during term." Minerva reminded her, "I needn't tell you of the record your father and James Potter set for serving the most detentions in a year… although at the rate the Weasley twins are going…"

"That's OK, Professor." Estella assured the woman. "I do not plan on getting detentions."

'_Getting caught, more like_.' she sniggered inwardly.

"Oh, well, good." The Gryffindor Head of House nodded approvingly. "You strike a good balance between both your parents in that regard. Be mindful to remind your uncle of that when you see him next…"

Estella looked closely at the unassuming Professor and was taken aback slightly by the knowing look in her cat-like eyes. Not for the first time, Estella found she had underestimated both the Transfiguration teacher's humour and perceptiveness; it occurred to her just how much the woman must have willingly let her father and his friends get away with in the name of 'harmless fun'.

"Are you certain, Professor, that it's Gryffindor you should be head of?" Estella peered at the woman closely, seeing her in a slightly different, more humanising, light.

* * *

The 'detour' Estella took en route to her uncle's dungeon quarters did little to dissipate her uncle's anger. Despite her Transfiguration teacher's earlier misgivings about how damaging subjecting such a small child to the man's temper could be, Estella knew better than to take her uncle's ire personally. If anything, the extent of his anger was a direct reflection of his concern for her safety. 

"How dare you disrespect me and make a mockery of me in front of my colleagues?" Severus hissed at her as she walked in the door. Estella halted in her tracks.

"What?" she was confused. Just because she had indirectly facilitated the other teacher's in fuelling their comments, didn't mean she condoned it. Telling him as much, she shook her head at his almost comical contempt and rolled her eyes. "With all due respect, get over yourself, Uncle Sev! I was only speaking the truth, and you know it, so lighten up!"

Severus' jaw twitched agitatedly, but Estella could see him working at controlling his breathing and calming himself down. Though he was often cold and unreasonable with his students, he habitually drew the line with his niece. "Very well." he conceded, inwardly marvelling at his niece's tenacity. "However there is still the matter of your foolish disregard for-"

"-for what, Uncle Sev? Mmmm?" Estella cut in. "Before you continue I suggest you make note of the fact that it was not against any rules for me to go fly within the school grounds."

"Those rules apply to students who have completed the necessary year of lessons." said Severus, becoming all too aware that he was about to be out-Slytherined yet again. "A flier of your inexperience would not have been allowed to fly unsupervised-"

"I'm afraid that's open to interpretation, Uncle." said Estella. "The rule in '_Hogwarts: A History_' specifically states that students in second year and above are permitted to fly unaccompanied-"

"-with the assumption that they've completed a year of flying lessons!" he interrupted weakly.

"It doesn't _say_ that though, does it?" Estella elaborated, her stormy grey eyes penetrating his shadowed depths like none other. "Like I said, it's open to interpretation. The rules, as they stand, did not paint me as being in the wrong and you know it."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Severus closed his eyes wearily lest he openly regret encouraging the child's Slytherin traits. The mask slipping ever so slightly, when he reopened his eyes and looked at his niece; the mix of relief, awe, amusement and defeat revealed itself to Estella.

"Indeed," he admitted grudgingly. Then, smirking in satisfaction, he continued. "In any event, it is not my place to discipline you any longer-"

"You won't tell him." Estella was smug, and Severus again was left to question the integrity of the Sorting Hat. "Who do you think he would blame for letting me out of their sight?"

"You're right, as usual." Severus' tone was uncharacteristically flippant. Despite it being used against him, it never took him long to find solace in his niece's Slytherin tendencies. That she displayed such traits at all was a reflection of his influence, after all. "He'd likely find an excuse to hex me, and reward you."

"Then he won't let up about me trying out for the Quidditch team." Estella grimaced. Taking a scientific approach to flying and doing what needs to be done is one thing, but to fly for recreation and sport was something she still wasn't comfortable with. If her residual queasiness and disorientation was anything to go by, her body just wasn't built for the skies.

"I find it hard to believe that you do not have any ambition to even try the sport." Severus peered at her curiously. Superior broom or no, it required a certain disposition to fly like she had that day and yet despite all her book smarts and perceptiveness, she was least aware of that fact. "_Both_ of your parents were equally competent and confident in the air."

Shrugging, Estella tugged at a loose strand of windswept hair. "Just doesn't interest me, is all. If I wanted to be a show off, I would have asked the hat to put me in Gryffindor," she informed him lightly, beaming ecstatically when she saw her uncle's eyes glint with amusement. Looking at him smugly, she went in for the kill: "There are more important matters at hand, than to risk injury indulging in – what is it you called it? – a _folly_."

The responding snort was about as close to laughter that the poker-faced Slytherin got. "Stop turning my words on me."

"Why?" Estella smirked, "and give up my Slytherin side? Never!"

A ghost of a smile twitched at Severus' lips and he inclined his head in appreciation. Any further conversation, however, was cut off by the flare of the fireplace, the green flames of the Floo ejecting a scroll of parchment towards Severus.

Summoning a book to leave her uncle to his correspondence in peace, Estella curled up on her armchair opposite Severus as he took in the contents of his mail. When she noticed her uncle twitch in his chair, she looked up to see a dark look on his face.

"What's the matter?" she asked, her mind instantly running through the list of worse-case-scenarios in her mind. Had something happened to her father?

"What were you thinking?" he stated softly, a desperate edge to his voice. "Writing to Draco like that?"

"I didn't give anything away." Estella frowned; slightly insulted by the implication that she had done something foolish. "You always said it was better to respond to mail with _something_ rather than ignore it and raise ques-"

"Yes, but the _charm_, Estella!" her Uncle looked at her imploringly. "You cannot do magic outside of Hogwarts, you foolish girl! Whatever you said to Draco should have been neutral enough to pass Lucius' inspection! Why did you do it?"

"I wanted to make sure only Draco could read it…" Estella said slowly, the cogs in her mind slowly clicking into alignment. "I suspected Lucius would… so I… oh Merlin, I didn't even think that he would… he knows I'm at the school now, doesn't he?"

Severus nodded jerkily.

"Well, can't we just say that I'm here with my Dad?" Estella's voice was rushed and high-pitched. "Or that I risked under-aged magic at home? Or… or… or…"

"They are all valid options, Estella." Severus admitted dismissively. "But don't you see, this is now a test."

"What do you mean, a test?" Estella narrowed her eyes. "A test for what?"

"My loyalty." said Severus gravely, running a hand through his greasy locks in frustration. "Estella, given their assumption that your convalescence requires ongoing care and administration of potions only I can provide, combined with the instance that you have used magic freely, it will now be hard for them to believe anything other than the scenario that you are within unrestricted proximity to me."

"What does that mean though?" Estella's voice was barely above a whisper as she struggled to connect the dots for herself.

"This letter here informs me that…" Severus' voice trailed off. "As a show of my ongoing loyalty to the Dark Lord, I am expected to volunteer the results of your _testing_ within the week."

"But… but… but how could they have known I am… _ready_…"

"Contacts within the Department of Floo Travel." Severus shook his head in disgust. "S_omeone_ present that night must have found your predicament highly amusing because it was evidently bantered about the office-"

"WHAT?" Estella blanched. "Isn't that going against some code of secrecy or something? I thought Dumbledore could _trust_ these people?"

"Oh it was purely a hypothetical recount, I assure you." Severus frowned at the fireplace. "No names were actually divulged… though whenever those foolish Hufflepuffs realise that there doesn't _need_ to be names for a Slytherin to figure it out will not be soon enough!"

Taking a deep breath, Estella set aside her book carefully and looked her Uncle directly in the eyes, a mask of determination on her face.

"Well," she said, getting up slowly. "We had better get started."

* * *

Two days had past and Estella had come to realise, firsthand, just why the testing was no longer mandatory in Wizarding society. Thankfully it wasn't anything like the trauma Lucius had subjected her to – she doubted much of anything could come close to _that_ – but it certainly wasn't a pleasant experience. 

The premise behind the process of testing a matured Witch or Wizard's magic was not unlike the methods some families used to coerce their young child to display signs of accidental magic. But where, for a small child, accidental magic often comes freely and unbidden, it is next to impossible for a witch or wizard who has outgrown that phase to call upon their magic without a wand.

To assist in the process, the subject was fed a special hallucinogenic potion that was supposed to heighten the senses and invoke dormant powers within. At best, this potion did nothing more than to cruelly amplify the effects of the range of spells that were surreptitiously thrown at the subject and was completely ineffective in provoking a self-preservationist response from one's magical core.

People of weak mind and body would therefore show little tolerance to the testing and be presumed lacking in magical ability, whilst those with the ability to block out the pain and maintain enough clarity of mind to, for example, launch a physical defence, were designated as being more powerful.

A downside to this method, naturally, was the way the testing reflected the manner by which a person had previously been exposed to magic without giving any accurate gauge as to future potential. A classically educated witch was invariably always going to do better than a Muggle-raised witch with no training even though the latter may well have exceeded the former had they been equally trained. The Ministry had come to realise this imbalance and ineffectuality some two hundred years ago, but in refusing to see Muggleborns as anything other than inferior, the staunch purists of the upper echelons of society refused to waiver tradition.

Now, two days after the event, Estella could not get the image of her uncle's face out of her mind. She hoped never to see again the look of self-loathing in his eyes as he forced himself to 'test' her. With the assistance of covertly-cast healing charms and potions, the testing left no lasting effects, but the burden of the secret she now had to carry weighed heavily on her shoulders; she didn't think she'd be able to look at her uncle in quite the same way again.

'_At least it's not like the testing Purebloods used to do to test the pureness of the bloodline.'_ Estella shuddered inwardly at the thought. After having heard how Narcissa Malfoy was not biologically her father's cousin, but rather the product of a illicit love affair between her great aunt-in-law and a unidentified stranger, Estella had made the curious mistake of looking up the methods Lucius was said to have used to test the integrity of his future-wife's bloodline. In hindsight, she should have taken Draco's fear (of being subjected to the same testing when the truth is revealed to the father of his chosen suitor) as proof of how unpleasant the ritual was, but no, she just had to be the conscientious Ravenclaw and borrow that book from the Restricted Section of the library. Even the terrorised screams of the animated images was not enough to dissuade her morbid curiosity…

In light of recent events, however, she appreciated the objectivity the knowledge gave her… compared to both that and what Lucius did to her, what her uncle forced himself to do was most bearable.

"It's OK, Uncle Sev, really." Estella assured her uncle, telling him as much as she prepared to return to London. The man having not stopped brooding since it happened. "I don't blame you."

"You should have left," said Severus in a distant tone. "That afternoon on the Quidditch Pitch. I _warned_ you."

"I don't understand, Uncle Sev," Estella furrowed her brow. "There's no way you could have known what was going to happen…"

Her uncle looked down at his hands, unresponsive.

"Uncle Sev?" Estella's eyes widened, and she took a step back. "Tell me… tell me…"

"Tell you what, Estella?" Severus cut her off impatiently, looking like he had just taken a bite out of a lemon. "What do you want to hear?"

"It _was_ Malfoy who sent that letter, wasn't it?" Estella narrowed her eyes at the fireplace in memory, her mind trying to pinpoint the logistics of sending mail to Hogwarts. Though her uncle hadn't actually said whom the letter was from, she had just assumed that only Lucius would have been able to know about the letter she'd sent Draco and be of mind to request such a thing from her uncle. "You had no choice, right?"

"How else would I have known what I did?" her uncle responded, carefully avoiding her question. "If I had a choice, don't you think I would have chosen differently?"

Estella blinked at her uncle, not quite knowing how to take things anymore. "Forget I said anything," she said quietly, sighing in frustration. All the pieces of the puzzle were right in front of her, and yet she wasn't even sure if it needed putting together, or if it was just a weird looking picture. "My brain's been on vacation lately."

Severus frowned inwardly at the unsettled look of confusion clouding his niece's features. He hated that she was not as sure of herself and on the ball as she used to be, and he couldn't help but feel partly responsible for the regression. Turning their attention to more neutral waters, he handed her a small pouch of Floo Powder and guided her towards the fireplace.

"Be sure to apply yourself to your summer homework," he said in an impersonal, teacher-like tone. "You missed quite a bit of class towards the end of term."

Catching the look Estella gave him as she nodded wordlessly and stepped into the Floo, Severus inwardly kicked himself. Of all the things to mention…

* * *

Sirius and Remus sat in the living room eagerly awaiting Estella's return through the Floo. Whilst Remus amused himself with a deck of cards and Harry was upstairs grooming Buckbeak, Sirius sorted through his mail – positively relishing in the fact that, as a free man, he once again got to receive all the household bills and such. One official looking statement that had him perplexed, however, was one bearing the Gringotts emblem. 

"I'll murder her!" He exclaimed, spluttering in indignation.

"Who?" Remus looked up from his game of solitaire lazily, long-since immune to Sirius' melodrama.

"That bloody cousin of mine!" Sirius spat, waving the statement in the air. "What was I thinking, letting her take my daughter out in Muggle London!"

Chuckling at the darker man's protective instincts, Remus smiled. "Whatever she did with Estella, Sirius, I am sure it was not inappropriate." he said. "Muggle London imposes age restrictions on places not fit for children, I assure you."

"Well then she must have charmed Estella to look older!" Sirius exclaimed, holding the statement up and pointing at specific references. "Just look at this! Virgin Megastore! What is that? Are Muggles so perverse that they actually encourage-"

Sirius' tirade, however, was cut off by Remus' rapturous laughter. "Oh, Padfoot!" Remus wiped the tears from his eyes. "I can't believe you thought… Merlin, Virgin is a _company_. That store sells Muggle music and videos."

"Oh." Sirius deflated slightly. "Well how in the hell was I supposed to know _that_? Who names a music store after-"

"If you'd look on the back of half the CDs in this house you'd known it." Remus continued to chuckle. "So come on, where else did Tonks take Estella and _'corrupt_' her?"

Sirius ran off the list whilst Remus explained the wares of each store to Sirius; who, though he had some familiarity with the larger chains from his time living in Muggle London before his incarceration, was still largely out of touch with the present retail industry.

"And so what of this one, Moony: 'Victoria's Secret'." Sirius frowned at the statement. "What sort of name is that? Why would anyone want to go spend money on a secret? What do they sell?"

Remus blanched.

"I… I don't think I should tell you that one."

"Why not?"

"Because Estella would wither and die in embarrassment if she knew we knew, and Tonks is far too valuable to dismember and feed to Buckbeak." Remus said with a straight face.

"What is it?" Sirius growled, his Gryffindor curiously getting the better of him.

"Let's just say it's some of that 'secret women's business' that we have no business in knowing." said Remus quietly, hoping beyond hope that it put an end to Sirius' questions on the matter. He did _not_ want to be the one to tell him that his little girl was out buying lingerie – heck, it was a revelation he himself was having a hard enough time with.

"If it's 'secret women's business' as you say, Moony," Sirius began after a contemplative silence. Remus recognised the look on his friend's face and inhaled sharply, not liking where the dog Animagus was headed with his reasoning. **"…then how the hell do you know so much about it?"**

* * *

"What's up with them?" Estella asked Harry as he accompanied her upstairs to unpack following her return from Hogwarts. "Poor Moony's looking like he's been castrated and Padfoot's not been able to look at him without sniggering." 

It was a matter of record that both she and Harry resorted to referring to their guardians by their Marauder nicknames whenever they were suspected of general tomfoolery and mischief.

"Dunno." Harry shrugged. " I walked down stairs just before you Flooed in to find your Dad laughing maniacally and Remus blushing furiously; spluttering something about inescapable storefront windows."

"They're weird." Estella conceded. "So how was your week, anyway?"

"Frustrating." Harry sighed. "Did your uncle tell you that this Order is reforming?" Estella nodded. "Well Sirius and Remus have been discussing plans whenever they think I'm not around, but then they shut up as soon as I come in. It's getting annoying."

"What, that they won't tell you anything?" Estella frowned. "Maybe they are just planning a surprise party or something."

"No, it's not that." Harry confirmed. "With tomorrow it's like they deliberately tease me about not knowing what's going to happen. This is different. They are actually serious about this."

"Good Merlin!" Estella exclaimed, appalled at the thought of being kept in the dark – a Ravenclaw does, after all, value knowledge. "Maybe we should ambush them for information now that we're both here and can join forces."

"What are you thinking?"

"I don't know." Estella paused. "We could try to play them off against each other I suppose. I never tried to do it with Uncle Sev and Remus because Sev's too cluey to fall for it, but we may just be able to weasel separate pieces of the puzzle from each of them and then collaborate and put it all together for ourselves."

"That… that may just work!" Harry exclaimed, thinking how, in particular, Dudley would often manipulate his parents in such a way to get what he wanted. "It's brilliant!"

"Well here's hoping neither of them remembers that the Sorting Hat considered putting the two of us in Slytherin."

For the rest of the day, the pair worked in tandem, each cornering a respective adult in turn and firing a series of vague, but specific, questions at them. By the time that the two cohorts hastily excused themselves from the dinner table, eager to compare notes and solve the mystery, their two unwitting targets began to suspect.

"Padfoot." Remus looked to his friend in amusement as soon as the two industrious teenagers had left the kitchen.

"Moony." Sirius inclined his head in silent agreement.

"It seems the progeny has combined forces against us." Remus grinned, reinvigorated by the idea of a challenge.

"It does." Sirius nodded. "Which presents us with a problem."

"It does." Remus agreed. Each child was perceptive and intelligent enough on their own, without having the added benefit of collusion. "Though I can't believe they wouldn't think we'd figure out what they were doing."

"Indeed." Sirius scoffed, "who do they think wrote the book?"

Remus drained the last of his tea and regarded his friend with all manner of gravity. "How long do you think we can fend them off?"

"I don't know. I'm a bit rusty." Sirius admitted. "And with their genes, I'm afraid to say we may have met our match."

"What are you proposing?" Remus smirked at his friend. Despite the seriousness of what they were trying to keep from the children, the idea of employing long discarded methods to misdirect the curious teenagers sparked a youthful exuberance in the weary werewolf. "Divide and conquer?"

"Divide and conquer." Sirius confirmed, a hungry look in his eye.

"Right, then I'll take Harry and you can-"

"Wait, why don't I-" Sirius cut him off.

"Because they won't expect us to do it _this _way, Paddy" Remus rolled his eyes and tapped his nose. "We'll catch them unaware."

"Right." Sirius grunted, rising from the table and rubbing his hands together in anticipation. Halfway to the kitchen door he turned and looked back at his friend, who was almost through spelling the dishes to wash themselves in the sink. "You know, we really ought to come up with names for those two. They're becoming regular little Marauders!"

"Don't sound so pleased." Remus grimaced, his mind balking at the possibilities. "It will only come back and bite you in the arse."

* * *

Later that night, as the teenagers filed off to their respective rooms to mull over the fragmented information they had managed to piece together from their respective reconnaissance missions and get ready for bed, they were each surprised by a visitor at their door. 

"Knock knock." Sirius rapped at his daughter's door cheerily. "Can I come in?"

"That depends," Estella opened the door a crack and stuck her head out into the hall to grin at her father in equal playfulness. "Are you going to tell me what's going on around here?"

Sirius was taken aback. So much for catching his daughter unaware.

Wiping the goofy grin off his face, he sighed in defeat. It had been foolish to assume that, in Estella's case at least, he and Remus had been able to conduct themselves in a manner that didn't alert her to the fact that they were onto the teenager's plan.

"That depends, are you going to let me in?" Sirius countered, his eyes darting upwards to where he assumed Remus was having more luck misdirecting the too-trusting Harry. Leaning in close and dropping his voice into a conspiring whisper, "can't very well disclose certain details in the hallway, y'know."

"Fine." Estella stood back and opened the door wide, permitting her father entry before closing the door firmly behind him. "Spill."

"First, tell me what you know." Sirius rubbed the back of his neck wearily and sat down on the edge of the bed, facing her.

"More than you, or even Harry, thinks." Estella admitted, walking over to her dresser to put down her hair brush and retrieve her mother's diary. "You forgot I had this, didn't you?"

Sirius paled and swore under his breath.

Putting the book back in its drawer and turning to face the mirror and braid her hair, she looked directly at her father's reflection. "I didn't know what to make of it," she admitted, gesturing to the drawer . "But what I pieced together today clarified a few things."

"What does Harry know?" Sirius frowned, rubbing his hands on his thighs before rising to stand behind his daughter. Picking up the hair brush, he stilled her hands. "Do you mind?"

Estella considered her father's reflection for a moment before lowering her hands and nodding. They stood there in silence, nothing but the crackling sounds of a brush caressing hair filling the room. After a while, Estella spoke. "You've never brushed my hair before." she said sadly.

Sirius' hand stilled the brush mid-stroke. Trying to inject a little levity, he shook off the implied loss and smiled. "Were you always so flighty when you were little?" he asked, referring to the time over the summer previously when Estella had temporarily de-aged for his benefit. Trying to get her to hold still long enough for anyone to do her hair was an exercise in madness.

"Yes." Estella sighed, "Almost always someone would have had to point a wand at me and charm my hair to behave when I wasn't looking."

"Why didn't you let anyone brush it?" Sirius asked, momentarily forgetting his earlier point to the conversation in favour of satisfying his gaping curiosity about his daughter's life.

"I was scared all my hair would fall out or something," Estella shrugged, unable to comprehend her juvenile actions any better than the adults in her life had been able to do at the time. "Besides, as a matter of principle, I generally refused to do anything I didn't see an adult do first."

It took Sirius a while to get the reference, but when he did, he laughed heartily. "I hope someone told your uncle the virtues of leading by example." he chuckled, his mind unable to reconcile the image of his brother-in-law brushing, let alone washing, his greasy locks.

"Well actually, Professor Dumbledore scared me into it." Estella smirked. "Told me my hair would go all slimy and die if I relied only on magic to care for it. That even he had to brush his hair to keep it healthy. My uncle was far from impressed when I told him I decided to take care of my hair because I didn't want it to become slimy and die like his."

Sirius dropped the brush in shock. "You said that to Severus and _lived_?"

"Yes, though I almost died of boredom when he began to lecture me about the nature of protective gels and the dangers of stray hairs falling in potions." said Estella. "He _does_ wash his hair, you know. It's not really nice of people to poke fun at what is actually a result of his job description."

"He could charm his hair clean between lessons." Sirius informed his daughter, forgoing the abandoned brush so he could set about braiding the thick, shiny locks instead.

Estella shrugged.

"How he acts around people, y'know, because of his role, is not how he'd normally choose to act." said Estella insightfully. "Perhaps dressing the way he does and looking like he does is something he does deliberately to separate the real him from the act. Like a reminder to himself not to let his guard down."

Sirius stilled his hands again to lean down and kiss the top of his daughter's head appreciatively. "You know, that was really rather insightful of you." he said. "It's no wonder we can't keep anything from you."

Going back to their earlier thread, Estella straightened up and looked at the reflection of her father's eyes. "Harry doesn't know any more than what he's overheard this past week." Estella informed her father. "It's not my place to tell him, but I think you're making a mistake keeping it from him."

"It's not my choice," Sirius told her, the grip on her hair tightening slightly in an outward display of his frustration. "Dumbledore has a preconceived idea of…"

"Dumbledore is no more your keeper than he is mine or Harry's." Estella chided him lightly. "Just because he defeated Grindelwald and is a Headmaster, doesn't make him right on every little thing. He has no right to tell you how to do things, especially now that you're free."

"You know, you're right." Sirius' eyes flew open in realisation. "I _am_ free now… and I can raise my kids however I damn well like!"

"Hear, hear." Estella smiled encouragingly at her father, not allowing herself the time to mull over the possible implication that Dumbledore had been imposing parenting advice to her father about how to raise her too.

"Are you all right, kiddo?" Sirius bent down slight and craned his neck over his daughter's shoulder to look at her directly.

Turning her head to look her father directly in the eye, Estella smiled. "I'm fine, Dad." she said quietly. "You're doing a really good job on my hair, you know. Are you certain you never played with dolls when you were younger?"

"Hey!" Dismissing the haunted look on his daughter's face as a figment of his imagination, Sirius scowled indignantly at her implication. "I'll have you know, missy, that I became quite proficient at doing your mother's hair while she was pregnant with you."

"Why'd you have to do Mum's hair?"

"Her arms would get too tired." Sirius rolled his eyes.

"Then why not just charm her hair then? She was of age to do magic." Estella was curious, her memory failing to recall any instance of her teenaged mother styling her hair.

"Because…" Sirius leaned in close and whispered directly into his daughter's ear before kissing her cheek. "Your mother _liked_ having her hair brushed."

"I can see why." Estella exhaled in relaxation. "It's very soothing."

"For you, maybe." Sirius smirked, making a show of flexing his weary fingers and shaking circulation back into his hands. Before she could pull away and admonish him for putting himself out, however, he smiled reassuringly and kissed the top of her head again. "But if I had my way, I'd do it for you everyday."

"Careful, I might just hold you to that" she said as he held up a mirror to show her his handiwork. "Mmm, no, I think you're out of practice – it's all wonky. Do it again."

"Don't push your luck." Sirius grabbed his daughter around the waist without warning and hoisted her into a fireman's carry, causing her to squeal in surprise as he lugged her over towards her bed. Holding onto her with one arm, he drew his wand with the other and spelled the blankets down before depositing her on the mattress in an unceremonious heap.

"Gee, guess you didn't do _that_ for Mum while she was pregnant." Estella sat up against the bed-head and scowled playfully. "I wasn't ready for bed, you big prat. I haven't brushed my teeth yet."

Sirius smirked malevolently at his daughter and fired the teeth-scrubbing charm at her without warning, causing her to splutter. "Right, then, anything else?"

"I'm afraid to say." Estella shook her head in bemusement, one hand rubbing the residual feeling of the charm from her mouth. Not being able to use magic outside of school, and having an uncle who looked down his abnormally long nose at frivolous wand play, she'd come to favour the Muggle method.

"Well, if you're all done, you won't mind if we chat a while." Sirius said, settling on the edge of his daughter's bed and making himself comfortable.

"I won't tell Harry," Estella vowed. "Not unless he me asks about it directly."

"Wait, just what _do_ you know." Sirius frowned, his eyes drifting to the drawer where he knew the journal to lie. "I didn't exactly get to read much of it over Christmas break."

"I know why Harry's so important," Estella admitted knowingly. "Everything James and Lily told you and Mum, she wrote down."

"How long have you…" Sirius rubbed at his face nervously, his child's insecurities earlier in the week having renewed meaning.

"Since the week Harry got here." Estella said. "I sat down and read it all while Harry was settling in."

Turning away from his daughter to cradle his head in his hands as he rested his elbows on his knees, Sirius sighed. "I should never have given it back to you… I didn't even think…"

"It wasn't yours to keep from me, Dad." Estella said tersely.

"No, I don't mean it like that, sweetheart." Sirius turned back to look at her, his hands grasping at hers tightly. "I would never keep you from something that was your mother's… it's just that you shouldn't have found out that way. I can't imagine the burden you've had to shoulder all this time… why didn't you confront me about it? No… don't answer that… Merlin, I'm sorry, Estella."

"What are you sorry about?" Estella shook his hands for emphasis. "You've done nothing wrong! It's not that I don't find you approachable, Dad… I'm just used to figuring things out for myself, you know?"

"You don't have to do it alone, kiddo." Sirius sighed, misty eyed, as he pulled Estella in for a fierce hug.

An hour later, Sirius slipped from his sleeping daughter's room, closing the door quietly behind him as he emerged into the hallway feeling as though a weight had been lifted.

"You told her everything, didn't you?" Remus emerged from his own doorway, having left Harry to his Quidditch magazine well over half an hour earlier.

"She has Selina's diary, Remus." Sirius reminded his friend. "Not to mention Severus' ability to suss things out."

"Fair enough." said Remus. "And since we're being honest, I offered to take Harry because I know I wouldn't have been able to keep anything from Estella either."

"So what did you tell Harry?" Sirius probed his friend.

"I told him you'd talk to him after his birthday." Remus' cheeks flushed and he looked way sheepishly. "That you would answer his questions then."

"You know me too well, Moony my friend." Sirius smiled gratefully at his friend and accompanied him downstairs to the living room where they would spend half the night thinking of ways to tell Dumbledore that they would no longer keep the children out of the loop.

END CHAPTER

NEXT CHAPTER DUE: two weeks-ish.


	4. Full House

Disclaimer: See Chapter one. Reviews will continue to be addressed by e-mail only. Thanks for reading.

Updated: Monday, 19 September 2005

Beta'd by: 3-Legged Dog

**Chapter 04: Full House**

It was a little before midnight. After saying goodnight to his former Professor, Harry had immersed himself in yet another Quidditch magazine from his godfather's collection, biding his time until midnight – his birthday. After a few weeks of leading a sedentary lifestyle within the restricting walls of his new London home, Harry found he was increasingly tired and lacking energy. This lack of activity, combined with a constant supply of nutritious, wholesome food, had not only seen the young Gryffindor fill out in all the right places, but it also made him susceptible to falling asleep once in the comfortable confines of his bed. So, despite his intentions to honour his age-old tradition, Harry Potter fell asleep before midnight, his bedside lamp alight, glasses slightly askew on his bowed head, and magazine in his lap.

A few hours before dawn, Sirius, who had ascended to the attic level of the house to oversee Buckbeak's transportation to Grimmauld Place – part of an elaborate relocation neither child was aware of – saw the light flickering under his godson's door and immediately went to investigate. Seeing quite plainly that his godson had intended to see in his birthday in secret, Sirius was struck by an idea… one that subsequently threw weeks of careful planning out the window.

Barrelling downstairs to first wake his daughter, Sirius startled a bleary-eyed Remus, whose keen sense of hearing had awoken him and sent him out into the hall to investigate.

"Sirius, what on earth is going on?" Remus whispered hoarsely, mindful not to wake the slumbering teenagers. Dawn was still several hours away. "Did Buckbeak's Portkey not activate?"

"No time to explain, there's been a change of plan." Sirius informed his friend breathlessly as he brushed past the man and bodily opened his daughter's door. "I suggest you go pack."

"Sirius…" Remus was quick on the uptake. "You cannot be serious!"

"Ah, Moony, you read my mind." Sirius smiled at his friend and lit up his daughter's room. "But I _am_ Sirius, and you wouldn't have it any other way, admit it!"

Remus waved his hands in the air in defeat. "Fine." he sighed. "But for the record let me state that, whatever you do, I refuse any part in it."

"Any part in what?" a groggy Estella sat up in bed and rubbed at her eyes, the light sleeper having awoken to the light and murmur of voices in her room. "Dad, what on earth is going on? It's the middle of the night!"

"Get up. Pack." Sirius tugged at her blankets excitedly before rushing over to her trunk and cupboards, haphazardly opening drawers and throwing things across the room. "No time to explain; it's a surprise."

Sensing from her father's tone and her godfather's nonchalant response that this was just another of her father's hair-brained ideas, Estella rolled out of bed and began to pick up the items her father was throwing at the trunk.

"Oh, this is simply taking too long!" he exclaimed, drawing his wand and aiming it at her trunk impatiently. "Pack!"

Estella had to duck to avoid the enthusiastic rush of all her favoured belongings as they flew directly into her trunk.

"Dad! How am I supposed to _find_ anything now?" she whined. "I am perfectly capable of packing!"

"What are you doing just standing there?" he looked at her impatiently, the man himself hopping from one foot to the next in unbidden excitement. "Get dressed!… no… that will take too long…"

Before Estella had a chance to protest, her father had transfigured her pyjamas into a robe and cloak. Only problem was that he had been so distracted and excited as he'd done it that the material still felt like the soft linen of pyjamas and retained much of the same colouring and design… including the animated pixies.

"I can't go out wearing this!" Estella shrieked, protesting as her father promptly shrunk her trunk – complete with all her clothes – and started to push her out of the door. "I look like a circus act!"

Watching from the doorway to his bedroom with detached amusement, Remus flicked his wand at his goddaughter lazily and corrected the problem. "Keep an eye on your father, cub," was all he said before making an act of yawning and stretching. "I'll catch up in the morning after I've had a _full _night's rest."

"Is that all you're going to say?" Estella gaped at her godfather. "Why aren't you coming?" Remus didn't answer as he simply retreated into his room and closed the door. Turning her attention to her father who was tugging at her insistently, motioning towards the stairs to the attic, she continued on her tirade. "Why isn't he coming? Where are we going? Why are we going in the middle of the night?"

"Because it's Harry's birthday, and I want to make it a day you'll never forget, now come on!" Sirius practically carried her up the stairs. "Let's wake him up!"

After seeing how her father had chosen to awaken the deeply slumbering Harry, Estella was acutely grateful for the fact that she was a light sleeper. With equal amounts of urgency and haphazard disorientation, Sirius had Harry's trunk packed and the dishevelled boy dressed before the young Seeker even had a chance to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

"What's going on, Sirius?" Harry asked, perplexed. Getting no answers from the over-excited Animagus as he dragged both children towards Buckbeak's room, the bespectacled Gryffindor looked to Estella for explanation.

"Don't look at me," Estella shrugged. "I know as much as you do… my Dad's gone crazy!"

"And he can still hear you." the man in question growled, poking his daughter in the ribs as he barrelled them through the door and towards the awaiting Hippogriff.

After dispensing with the required pleasantries with the proud beast, Sirius shuffled impatiently and gestured towards the animal's broad back. "What are you waiting for? Get on!"

The two teenagers looked at him in stunned silence, their limbs rooted to the spot.

"What? But-"

"Stop." Sirius silenced their protests with his hand, and he regarded them with a uncharacteristic clarity in his eyes, his tone turning serious. "Do you trust me?" Both children nodded without hesitation. The wild look returned to his eye. "Then hurry up and get on!"

Grumbling confused protests under their breaths, the two teens climbed onto Buckbeak. Harry swinging his leg over the crouching creature's back with an air of confidence, whilst Estella was a little more hesitant and was helped to settle behind Harry by her father. Once Sirius had climbed on behind both of the children in his care, he muttered an unfamiliar charm under his breath; his wand pointed at the window. Seeing the profiles of the children before him stiffen in awe as the window opened and enlarged to grant them leave, he grinned.

"Honestly," he chuckled, his chest rumbling against Estella's back, causing the girl to look up at him in question. "How do you think we got Buckbeak up here?"

"Uh… Portkey?" Estella rolled her eyes.

"Quiet you." Sirius shook his head and sighed. His daughter was right, as usual. "Let me rephrase… how else did you think we were going to go for a ride?"

Estella swallowed audibly, whilst Harry leant forward and grasped Buckbeak's mane more tightly.

"Wicked," Harry flashed a rare grin back at his godfather, his emerald eyes ablaze with the promise of flight.

"Mad!" Estella countered, tightening her grip on the younger Gryffindor, only relaxing her hold when she felt her father's arms cradle her protectively.

"Did you think I had us sit on Buckbeak for our health?" Sirius laughed, but his tone retained a hint of exasperation. "Just trust me, all right?"

"I do trust you, Dad." Estella assured him, relaxing in his arms and looking up at him from where her head rested on his shoulder. "But that doesn't mean I don't think you're completely and utterly insaaaane-"

The rest of Estella's sentence was cut abruptly short as the Hippogriff took to flight, the sudden rush of wind and movement causing the young Ravenclaw to scream.

By the time Estella came back to her senses, they were high above London and both her companions were laughing in unadulterated glee. Feeling completely safe in their company, she shook her head in mirth and tried to get her father's attention.

"Where, exactly, are we going?" she asked.

"Ever the realist," her father admonished her lightly, but he had to yell to be heard against the wind. "Does it really matter where we're going?"

Sighing, Estella shrugged and wrapped her cloak around herself tightly. The cool, predawn breeze was a stark contrast to the warm embrace of her bed, but she was not about to complain. They'd never let her live it down. Instead, she snuggled closer to both Harry and her father, drawing warmth from their close presence. Soon enough, Estella recognised the street below as being Grimmauld Place, and she knew where they were headed. Sensing his daughter's puzzlement, Sirius offered an explanation.

"Surprise." he said.

Now it was Harry's turn to look over his shoulder at his godfather in question. "Where _are_ we?" he asked as they touched down on a neglected, flat roof.

"The ancient and most noble house of Black," father and daughter recited simultaneously, a false tone of importance in their voice as they struggled to keep straight faces.

"Is this the surprise you've been keeping from me all week, Sirius?" Harry asked as his godfather bustled them into the house through a trapdoor on the roof and led them directly into what he later discovered to be Estella's room.

"What surprise?" Sirius asked innocently, a coy smile playing at his lips. "I don't know anything about any surprise… now get to sleep you two, breakfast won't be for another couple of hours."

"You realise you just completely contradicted yourself," Estella eyed him carefully. Her room had been refitted with two beds, which suggested some measure of premeditation to his madness. Yawning theatrically, she threw herself on one of the twin beds and made herself comfortable. "Good night… finally."

Sensing an ulterior motive in his daughter's action, Sirius raised a brow. "Oh, that's so not going to work, missy!" he smirked. "Don't think I don't know that you're just going to sneak downstairs the moment I leave the room!"

"Why would I do that, Dad?" Estella challenged slyly. "Is there something downstairs we shouldn't see?"

Harry looked between Sirius and Estella, an awakening sense of realisation clouding his features. Catching the look Estella directed towards him and following her eyes to the door, he took the chance to dart past Sirius and make for the exit. Sirius, however, had fully anticipated the move, and had fired a spell at the door before Harry could so much as touch the doorknob.

"Hey! No fair… we can't use magic, we're at a disadvantage!" Estella pouted, reminding her father of the Marauder's sense of honour.

"Hey!" Sirius mirrored his daughter's indignant tone. "Just who is the adult here?"

"Oh well that's convenient." Estella scowled playfully, crossing her arms across her chest, "of all the times to pull rank!"

"Ah, you're just sulky because I decided to use my power!" Sirius loomed over her bed menacingly, a malevolent glint in his stormy eyes as he looked at each child in turn. "But I know you two too well." his eyes travelled to the door as he began to pace pensively. "It's not entirely safe to lock children in a room…"

Estella's eyes flew wide in anticipation, the wheels in her mind beginning to turn as she tried to remember which floorboards in the hallway creaked.

Sirius locked eyes with her knowingly before turning to Harry, who was sitting on his bed, propped up against the headboard. "…and it's not entirely safe for young children to go traversing around _this_ house without… _permission_."

Estella looked from her father to Harry, smirking at the wide-eyed apprehension she saw on the naïve Gryffindor's face. Seeing the look on his daughter's face and seemingly remembering that Harry had the infamous invisibility cloak at his disposal, Sirius drew himself up. "I see," he said, toying with the wand in his hand. "I have no choice."

At that, Sirius transformed into Padfoot with a pop; his shaggy black form disappearing into the shadows of the room as he moved to stand guard in front of the door. Eying the abandoned wand on the floor, Estella's smirk grew into a toothy grin. Giving Harry a meaningful look before rising from the bed slowly and pocketing her father's wand, she slowly approached the Animagus.

"You do realise, that you are now without a wand and out numbered, don't you?" she grinned victoriously at the dog, who hadn't moved; except to follow her movements with amused eyes. "Harry?"

She needn't have called for him though, because before Estella even knew what was happening, Harry had pounced on Padfoot, covering the dog with the heavy coverlet from his bed and trapping the pliant Animagus within the folds. Smiling approvingly at Harry, Estella took a step towards the now unobstructed door, but then froze.

"Wait," she narrowed her eyes at the innocent looking mutt, who, if it was even possible, looked as though it was smiling. "That was far too easy."

Shrugging, Harry impatiently stole past Estella and tried the doorknob. "Locked!" he muttered incredulously, before turning and glaring at Padfoot with equal indignation.

"No fair!" Estella wagged her finger at the dog before staring at the lock intensely, an idea forming in her mind. "I wonder…" she muttered to herself as she approached the door and ran a hand across the finely polished wood. Closing her eyes, she thought of how the house would surely follow her grandmother's lead in favouring her as its heir, and she tried to use it to her advantage by willing the house to reject the locking spell her father had cast. Closing her hand around the doorknob, she jiggled it experimentally and was ecstatic to hear the subtle click of the lock sliding open. Having sensed the ripple in the wards – for he was still technically the master of the house – Sirius, or rather Padfoot, had known what the girl had done before she herself was even aware. As such, Estella didn't get the chance to so much as tell Harry the door was unlocked before she was knocked to the ground by the heavy mass of her father's Animagus form.

"Harry!" Estella shrieked in laughter as her father's paws tickled her sides. "Help!"

In the process of trying to help the captured child, Harry somehow ended up on the floor next to Estella, the pair of them tangled up in the blanket that had formerly entombed Padfoot, with said dog lying heavily over their torsos.

"Oomph!" Estella groaned, unable to budge the large dog's weight. Much like the Animagus' human form, Padfoot had also gained a healthy amount of weight since the previous summer; and was stronger, too.

Their struggles proving fruitless – for all it did was tangle them up even more – the children tired quickly and gave in. Too exhausted to even concede defeat and carry themselves the few feet across the room to their beds, they fell asleep where they lay, an equally tired and immovable Animagus becoming a dead weight on their legs.

The hours passed quickly for the threesome, and all too soon the mid morning sun was streaming through the open curtains, the diffused rays warming them where they lay. One by one they started to stir lazily, no one quite awake or aware of their entanglement on the floor until a frantic pounding on the door startled them to awareness.

"Sirius! Estella!" Remus' voice was hoarse with worry. "Let me in! Are you in there?"

"No we're not here," Estella drawled sarcastically, her voice thick with sleep. "Go away!"

"Why is the door locked?" Remus asked, his hand jiggling the door knob forcefully. Estella, the rousing Harry and Padfoot could hear the impatient werewolf unsuccessfully fire an unlocking charm at the door. "It won't open!"

Estella rolled her eyes, and, before her father could change back into his human form, she got up and opened the door effortlessly. Though she could not quite understand how she did it, she supposed it was a similar sort of selective responsiveness that the wards permitted… much like how her father had been the only one able to open his bedroom door at home that day over Christmas.

"Well, about time!" Remus stumbled into the room, coming to rest directly across from a bewildered looking Sirius. "Why on earth did you ward the door locked like that? Kreacher would do anything Estella asks of him-"

"Estella," Sirius cut the rambling Marauder off, darting forward past his friend to inspect the door closely. "What did you do?"

"Uh, I opened the door?" Estella rolled her eyes at her father and shrugged.

"But… but… but…" Sirius stammered, his hands swinging the door on its hinges, his eyes darting from one side of the wood to another. "How?"

Sighing with exasperation, Estella made a show of trudging across to her father and demonstrating, in simple terms, the purposes of a door knob. "See?" she said condescendingly. "You take the handle, and you twist it like so-"

"Don't get smart with me!" Sirius growled, frustrated at not having an answer. "You… you did something! I locked it! Remus couldn't even open it with a spell!"

"What's going on here?" Remus looked between the father and daughter, his eyes narrowing at what he saw.

"Oh, nothing Moony." Estella said breezily as she walked over and wrapped her godfather up in a light hug. Turning back to her father from her place safe in Remus' arms, she added wistfully. "Guess the house only really listens to Blacks."

Remus' hands tightened around Estella in shock at the same time Sirius opened his mouth to speak. "You commanded the wards?" he asked dryly, eyes wide.

"Is that what I did?" Estella mused innocently, shrugging nonchalantly. "Yeah, I guess that's it then."

"But I locked it!" Sirius spluttered. "I'm the master of this house! It shouldn't listen to you yet!"

"Guess the house likes me better than you." Estella suggested.

"It must be something about this room. Regulus always used to make doors slam in my face and the stairs trip me up." Sirius scowled at the memory. "I _hate_ this house. Moony, let's burn it down!"

"Shhh!" Estella scolded him, laughing as she went to give the sulking man a hug. "The roof will fall on your head as you sleep if you keep talking like that! No one will be burning _anything_ down."

"You're right," said Sirius, ruffling her hair. "Besides, this place would give off toxic smoke and poison the neighbourhood out of spite."

"Have I told you today that you're weird?" Estella cocked a brow at her father, staring up at him through thick lashes.

"Oh, so I'm weird and insane." Sirius echoed her words from their flight the night before, a tone of mock hurt in his voice.

"She's amazing…" Remus smirked. "It's taken her how long to figure out what took Prongs and me, what, seven years?"

"Y'know, Moony," Sirius scowled. "Just because you're my daughter's godfather, don't think I wouldn't hesitate from hexing you!"

"What do you call that, then?" Remus grinned, indicating Sirius' hesitation and taking the opportunity to pull Harry in front of him as a human shield. "Sorry, Harry… but your godfather is cowering behind my godchild. It's only fair."

"Cowering!" Sirius spluttered indignantly. "Cowering! I'm not doing anything of the sort! Estella just happens to be standing in front of me!"

"Not anymore." Estella stepped aside, giving her godfather a clear shot. Seeing his vulnerability, Sirius grasped for his wand, only to remember that he'd discarded it when he'd transformed into Padfoot.

"You wouldn't hex an unarmed man, Moony." Sirius straightened up, confident of his friend's morals. "Marauder's code…"

"Oh, like you paid attention to _that_ last night!" Estella scoffed. "Oh, that's right, you were pulling rank then. Go ahead Moony!"

"Mmmm… decisions, decisions." Remus twirled his wand in his hand, letting go of Harry's shoulder so both children could be well clear of the pair.

After taunting Sirius with his offensive stance for a few moments, he simply tucked his wand in his sleeve and shrugged. "On second thoughts, I wouldn't want to make a mess of this fine room, and you lot are running a trifle late."

"By Merlin, you're right!" Sirius jerked into awareness, his eyes widening at the clock as he accepted back his wand from Estella's outstretched hand. "Hurry up and get ready you two! Harry, shower! Remus, you keep Estella in here… I'm going to go get ready."

Knowing not to argue with Sirius when he was in such an excited state, Harry pulled some clothes out of his enlarged trunk and followed Estella's direction to the attached bathroom before Sirius had left the room.

Now she was left alone in the room with her godfather, Estella readied her things for the shower before turning to the amused werewolf for answers. "So," she asked conversationally, conscious to keep her voice down until she could hear the shower in the next room start up. "How many people are trolling around downstairs?"

"Oh, just some of the old crowd…" Remus responded vaguely, not wanting to give anything away.

"Well, let's go down and say hello, shall we?" Estella made to move past him. "I'm hungry."

"No." said Remus, surprising her with his answer before adding lamely. "I mean, your father wanted you to wait here."

"Just for the record, Moony," Estella eyed him knowingly as she sat down on her bed. "You suck as an actor."

"No," Remus sighed, sitting next to her on the bed. "You're just too smart."

"I'll buy that." Estella nodded in approval. "So are you gonna tell me what's going on, or what?"

"You'll just have to wait and see." Remus pulled a block of chocolate from his pocket and handed it to her in a blatant attempt to distract her.

"Trust you to keep chocolate in your pocket," Estella marvelled, accepting the chocolate gratefully and letting him have this one victory. "Thanks for that, you want some?"

"No," Remus shook his head, knocking her offered hand away. "Unlike some people, I was awake for breakfast."

"Yeah, only because you weren't up flying over London half the blasted night!" said Estella. "Speaking of which, next time, transfigure me a warmer cloak!"

"You were cold?" Remus looked at his goddaughter worriedly, his arm instinctively wrapping around her shoulders as though she were still seeking warmth. "Did you tell Sirius?"

Estella slumped slightly and looked at the floor.

"Estella?" Remus gripped her shoulder firmly, reaching over with his other hand to tilt her chin towards him. "You didn't tell your father you were cold? Why?"

"I didn't want them to think I couldn't hack it." Estella shrugged sheepishly. "I wasn't really that cold… I was just tired and missed my bed."

"Then why did you go?" Remus' eyes glinted with concern.

"Dad wanted me to." Estella told him, her tone growing defensive. "And it's not like you did anything when you were standing in the hallway, watching!"

"I thought you wanted to go." said Remus apologetically.

"I didn't even know what we were doing!" Estella screwed up her face, not knowing how the conversation had veered down this path. "But I wasn't really going to say no to an adventure. It's not an every night thing, after all, but doesn't mean I still didn't miss my warm bed, though. Does that make sense?"

"Nope." Remus smirked. "But you've been spending time with your father, so you're excused."

"I have, haven't I?" Estella commented, a wistful smile on her face. "Spending time with my father, I mean." she paused. "Who'd have thought…"

"A lot has happened over the past few years." Remus acknowledged. Pulling her into a one-armed hug, he kissed her temple. "I guess you may think things are different now that you're getting older and you have your father back…" he took a stabilising breath. "But you know I never stopped…"

"It's ok, Uncle Remus." Estella leaned into her godfather, resting her head in the familiar crook of his shoulder. "You n' me are like peas and carrots."

Chuckling at the implied film reference, Remus put on his best Forest Gump impersonation. "Like my mother used to say, life is like a box of chocolates..."

"Remus my old friend, I always thought your mother always used to tell you that chocolate would rot your teeth?" Sirius chipped in from the doorway, where he now stood looking remarkably dapper. "And I am sure she didn't talk like that! Look at yourself; you're practically drooling on the bed!"

Upon seeing the ignorant naivety on the Animagus' face, Estella and Remus laughed, each making a mental note to introduce the out-of-touch Marauder to the film. Seeing Sirius' puzzlement turn to incredulity, Remus bolted from his seat on the bed and made some excuse to leave; hurrying out the door.

"Run, Forest, run." Estella drawled after him, ignoring her father's confused look.

"OK, why do I get the feeling I am missing something here?" Sirius ruffled his hair as though the motion would spur brain activity. The image of his daughter being so at ease and sharing inside jokes with his best friend roused a pinch of loss in his soul. No matter how receptive his daughter had been to his presence in her life, he'd never get those years with her back. It would always been something Remus, and heaven forbid, Severus, would have over him.

"Dad?" Estella's voice echoed into his consciousness and he shook his head quickly to rattle out the demons in his mind. Had he zoned out? A quick glance around the room showed that Harry had exited the room and was ready to head downstairs, whilst Estella had wasted no time in ducking into the bathroom in the boy's wake, her voice calling for his attention as her head peeked around the door frame.

"Huh? Oh, hurry up and shower already." Sirius grumbled half-heartedly, dismissing her hesitation with a wave. "Harry, what do you say to a game of Exploding Snap while we wait?"

Estella didn't hear Harry's response on account of the fact she had closed the bathroom door. As she quickly showered and got changed, however, she could hear the muffled sounds of two boisterous males playing their game; it was almost a pity to interrupt them. Hesitating only when she heard her father's laughter intermingling with the shouts of a protesting Harry, Estella paused to contemplate the unreadable look her father had given her earlier; when he'd walked in on her and Remus goofing around.

'_I wonder what was up with that_?' she wondered to herself.

Was her father jealous of her godfather?

* * *

Any chance Estella had to pay her father's haunted state of mind a spare thought was blown out the window once she saw the surprise her father had in store for both Harry and herself. How the men had been able to arrange a party of its kind without either teenager knowing what was going on was a remarkable feat, and it suddenly became clear why they were not permitted to leave the room until it was time – the house was quite literally bursting at the seams. 

After a suggestion made in passing by Harry, the occasion of his birthday was not so much a singular celebration than it was a mutual acknowledgement of family togetherness and friendship. Special homage was given to all the birthday parties both Harry and Estella had been denied growing up, and everyone received generous party favours. It was, to put it simply, Christmas in July.

"I'm sorry about your gift, Harry." Estella apologised, handing him a small box when the crowd's attention was not focused on either of them and she had managed to pull him aside into a quiet side room. "My original idea kind of fell through and I didn't have time to replace-"

"It's all right, Estella, really." Harry said, smiling. "This box could be empty and still you'd have given me the most generous gift of all."

"Huh?"

"Family." Harry said quietly.

Estella smiled warmly in return, fighting the urge to roll her eyes at his sappiness as she began to explain her gift. To her dismay, the majority of charms she tested on Harry's broom wore off after her initial test flight, and so she had been reluctant to re-present the birthday boy with a broom that was only marginally improved. Though no amount of lesser thought and work would have gone into it, the mere premise of a _slight_ adjustment being her only gift made the gesture obsolete. Of course, Harry would be in for a shock when he next flew his broom to find that it was just a little bit faster and balanced a little bit better; but Estella was inclined to believe that the improvements were so rudimentary, that the rider would hardly notice them at all.

After having, not only run out of time to purchase a allocated gift, but also not being in the position of going shopping while she was at Hogwarts; Estella had to improvise. Remembering distinctly a prior conversation she'd had with Harry about magical authors, Estella dug up her old collection of children's books.

"It's silly, I know. You've outgrown them." she said reproachfully as he opened the box. "They're some of my old books… but they're in mint condition. I am a Ravenclaw after all… I just thought that maybe you'd not seen them before. You probably have… it's stupid, I admit…"

"Estella." Harry shushed her by covering her mouth with the back of his hand. "You're rambling."

"I… I am?" Estella blinked dazedly. "I am! I don't think I've ever rambled before…"

"Careful, or there you go again." Harry chuckled, scrutinising each book with equal care and consideration. Taking a deep breath, he looked up at her with sparkling emerald eyes before chancing a hasty kiss on her cheek. "Thank you. I've never had a book before. One that wasn't a school book, anyway."

"Oh, I doubt things were ever that dire." Estella rolled her eyes and hugged him unabashedly.

"She's right, you know." Sirius said, coming up behind them quietly with an unreadable grin on his face as he had just witnessed their awkward exchange. "You had one of the largest collections of books for a child who couldn't even read yet."

"I did?" Harry frowned, his eyes lost as though searching for a long forgotten memory.

"Imagine that!" Estella rolled her eyes, smirking at the implications.

"Don't worry though, Harry," Sirius assured him. "They were all about Quidditch and flying mostly."

Sirius leant up against the wall and rested his pitcher of Butterbeer on the mantle, lest he draw attention to the fact that his hands had started to shake. Rubbing the offending appendages agitatedly, Sirius recounted his memory. "Your father, of course, had wanted to take you up on a broom when you were just a few days old." he said, smiling fondly. "Lily, of course, was aghast at the idea and insisted that no one take you up until you 'understood' what a broom was."

"Understood?" Harry's breath hitched in his throat. Not only did he get to spend his birthday with friends and people he considered family, but he could speak openly about his parents. It was a gift no amount of money could buy.

"We figured that if we read you enough Quidditch magazines and surrounded you with storybooks about brooms, that it would be enough to help you 'understand'." Sirius said. "Something must have worked because you were in the air with him just about every day after you turned 11 months old. I'll never forget the day you pointed at James as he and I were flying in the yard and told Lily and Selina that 'Daddy fly broom'. Poor woman didn't know whether to be ecstatic that her son was constructing sentences at 11 months or mortified at the implications of what was said. She'd never have not told James though." Sirius smiled fondly. "She admitted to me once that she secretly loved seeing you fly. Not enough to let you get your own broom for your birthday, mind you, but we were working on her for Christmas…" his voice trailed off, and he paled considerably.

"My dad, he read Quidditch magazines to me?" Harry's eyes flickered with recognition, overlooking the pain of what could have been in favour of concentrating on what he had been fortunate to experience.

"I did too," Sirius corrected him, not wanting his part in one of the Marauder's last capers go unchecked. "Eventually Lily caught on to our attempts to 'sabotage' your development and banished the magazines from the house. Selina would have had me strung up by the short and curlies if she knew I'd stashed them."

"Wait, so those magazines I've been reading…" Harry's eyes flew open as Sirius nodded, grinning; both boys ignoring the blanched look on Estella's face.

"Dad!" she shrieked. "Short and _what_? That's… that's…"

"An entirely inappropriate statement for a young lady to repeat, I do apologise." Sirius cut in sternly, a sad smile on his face. "In this poor light, it's easy to forget who I'm talking to…"

Frowning, Estella stepped towards her father, and took a sniff of his robes, her eyes narrowing at the yeasty smell of butterbeer. "How many of those have you had?" she asked carefully, reaching for his glass.

"Who are you, my mother?" Sirius rescued his glass, holding it away from his daughter.

"Merlin, I hope not." Estella shuddered, causing all three to laugh. Harry had heard enough about Sirius' mother to follow her meaning.

Another uncomfortably silence fell upon them, causing Sirius to fidget uneasily. Exchanging a remissive look with his daughter, he wondered, absently, about how his daughter's relationship with a broom could have been different under his early influence. Shaking the thought from his mind, he grinned lopsidedly and steered both the conversation, and the two young cohorts, towards the door. "Come on, let's get back out there before Estella's friends and Hermione join forces and start a reading group. They've been eying off the library most of the afternoon."

"Dad!" Estella sighed exasperatedly, her earlier misgivings returning to the recesses of her subconscious. "_Just_ because my friends are in Ravenclaw, it doesn't mean we're all book-mad! We have lives too, you know!"

"I'm sure you do, sweetheart." Sirius said nonchalantly, slowly pushing them out of the door and towards the study, where most of the people were centralised. "But you know as well as I do that if we don't go distract them soon, they'll all pull out their summer homework."

"No they won't." Estella corrected him. "It's over halfway through summer. You can bet they've already finished their homework."

"What about you?" Sirius asked her, choosing a strange moment to pose a fatherly question at her. "Did you get the research you wanted to get done while at Hogwarts?"

Estella bristled slightly in mid-step, but covered it well. "Yes, I found a highly helpful book on Phoenixes that will help me immensely in my extra-curricular reading." She had, in fact, 'borrowed' said book from the library until the start of term, and was not too keen to go into details on just what she had been doing at Hogwarts; so she sought to change the subject by asking her father how her friends came to be able to visit.

"Invitational portkey," her father informed her simply. "Remus went and picked them up personally and they'll take the return portkey home later. They have no real idea that we're actually in London… I regret the need for such security, but the less that know of the Order and this house, the least number of people Voldemort can potentially torture for information."

"Thanks for the imagery," Estella deadpanned.

"You're weird, you know that?" Both Harry and Sirius stared at the Ravenclaw incredulously.

"Wonder where I got that from…" Estella muttered as she walked ahead, barely catching the hushed exchange between her father and his godson as the older Gryffindor informed Harry that it took a lot for a Ravenclaw to give their books to another. If she didn't know any better, she'd suspect her marauding father was playing at being a matchmaker.

They were just a couple of books!

* * *

Of Estella's classmates, Elsie, John and Reg had made the trip to Headquarters. As she took them and Ginny Weasley on an impromptu tour of the house, she was remotely glad for the fact that she and her two guardians, over the previous summer, had managed to eradicate the house of some of its shadier history. Of course, the odd boggart and doxie still lurked in the lesser-used rooms – such was normal for old houses that went largely unoccupied – but at least there was nothing life threatening. 

"Your bedroom is fantastic," Elsie gushed, though Estella had suspicions her friend was only so enthused on account of the fact Harry had been known to have slept there the night before. "I love the colour."

"Sure you do," Reg and John chimed in, each rolling their eyes.

"So, Elsie, d'you want to see where your favourite former Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher sleeps or have you moved on to Harry now?" Estella smirked at her friend, her lips curling into a full blown grin as she locked eyes with Ginny. "I must say though, you'll have competition if that's the case."

"Hey!" Ginny spluttered. "I don't have a crush on Harry!"

"Oh? Did I say you did?" Estella countered innocently; it becoming apparently clear to everyone that Ginny had just outed herself.

Trying to save face, Ginny Weasley ignored the implications of the situation and made to change the subject. "This isn't your parent's house, though is it?"

Estella shook her head violently. "My Dad hates this house," she said. "If you saw what it was like before, you'd understand why."

"Why not have the party at your house, then?" John asked. "I mean, if your Dad hates this house so much…"

It took a while for Estella to remember that her friends simply saw this house as a venue for a party and not as headquarters to an Order they'd probably only ever heard about in legend. Nodding slightly at Ginny's fleeting look of panic, she effortlessly twisted the truth to misdirect her friends.

"Oh, well this house is bigger," she pointed out. "Besides, it would have been impossible to prepare for a surprise party at home while Harry and I had our noses in everything."

The others nodded acceptingly as Estella was struck by an idea. "Say, you want to see it?"

* * *

It had taken a fair bit of convincing, not to mention a million and one promises to not step foot outside or 'do anything stupid' but Sirius eventually consented to permit Estella and the other teenagers to portkey back to the family home to chill out. Little did any of them realise at the time that it was a convenient way for the Order to get the children out of headquarters for a few hours so they could hold their meeting freely. Whilst normally the idea of adults conducting such business behind their back wouldn't faze the inquisitive Ravenclaw, Estella was far too preoccupied with the thrill of hosting her friends over at her home for the first time to even care. 

"And this…" Estella made a grand sweeping gesture of the last room of their tour, "is our lair. Adults permitted by invitation only."

"Wicked!" Ron's eager eyes locked on the shelf full of Quidditch magazines and he twitched, his body urging him to rush forth and spill himself over the shelf's contents, but years of good manners being drilled into him by the overbearing Molly Weasley keeping his baser instincts in check.

"Wow! They don't even print these anymore!" Fred and George, despite being raised by the same mother, were not as restrained as they leapt forward and helped themselves to the collection of the magazine Zonko's used to issue to their most loyal clientele: _A Zillion Zany and Zappy Ideas for the Zealous Zonkonian_. "Look! You must have every issue ever published!"

"All bar one," Estella confirmed, her mind not wanting to think of what Peter Pettigrew had done with the Marauder's copy of the special edition on subterfuge and camouflage. Strictly speaking, the content of the Zonko's publication were not entirely politically sound. Having been published throughout the late 60s to mid 70s, the magazine came at a time of free thinking and rebellion. It retired its presses out of respect of the raging war of the late 70s (both that and economic rations the Ministry had imposed on non-essential items had forced their hand). Then by the time the war was over and business was able to go back to normal, Zonko's found that the society was far too conservative to tolerate a revival.

"Amazing!" Fred gaped openly, his eyes dancing with the possibilities.

"Why didn't you ever tell us?" George pouted. "Can I…"

"-Can we…"

"-Just a look, see…"

"-Do you have any idea how…"

"-Come on, you owe us!"

"-We gave you the Marauder's Map!"

At this, Estella raised a brow at the twin's bantering back and forth. Harry and Estella owed the twins for the Marauder's Map? Oh, really? If only the red-headed doppelgangers knew just whose children they were wrestling with! Exchanging a knowing glance with Harry, Estella could tell Harry was feeling just as incredulous.

"Knock yourselves out," Harry gestured towards the stack lazily. "You won't get far, though…" he was interrupted by the twins' surprised yelping, the pair dropping the magazine they were trying to open in shock. "They're protected." He finished lamely.

"Protected?" George's voice raised an octave.

"_Protected?_" Fred echoed his twin, rubbing the hand that had been in contact with the innocent looking parchment.

"Just as well, too." Hermione nodded approvingly at the unyielding parchment. "Do you have any idea how much controversy the content in those issues caused?"

Fred and George exchanged a look before staring Hermione straight in the eye. "Yes." They said pointedly, a malevolent look in their eyes.

"It _was_ a little liberal," John nodded in assent with the displaced Gryffindor, "even by 70's standards."

"If it was bordering on inappropriate by 70s standards, then I doubt you'd find any of it in today's resources," Reg sighed, almost as keen as the twins to look the magazines over, if only from the perspective of a keen intellectual who craved new information.

By now, the twins were practically salivating.

"Wherever did you get them?" Elsie asked suddenly.

"Our dads shared a subscription." Harry said absently, looking up from where he was showing Ron his favourite Quidditch Magazines.

"But we're under strict orders to not take them out of this room." Estella threw in for good measure.

Her father had been rather enthusiastic when he'd found the box they were stored in; making a big ceremony of relinquishing control of them to the 'next generation'. Of course, it hadn't gone without a lengthy lecture from Remus, suggesting that they keep the collection intact and within the house, save losing them. Just when they all thought he had gone completely bonkers and regressed into 'Professor' mode, the unassuming werewolf went on to subtly point out valuable page references to obscure charms and pranks that they may wish to copy for their own devices. Both she and Harry had taken to reading the magazines after that – if only to catch a glimpse as to the sort of things their parents did as teenagers.

To their surprise, the Marauders hadn't only been loyal Zonko's customers – their shared account with the store guaranteeing them a subscription – they had been regular columnists and contributors to some of the magazine's regular features. Estella didn't quite know what to make of it; however, since she was sure many of the subjects of the Marauder's 'hypothetical' scenarios were based, in reality, on her uncle.

"Wow! Look at this, George!" Fred ogled at the cover of another edition. "There's a special feature by the Marauders! Do you suppose they are the same ones who made that map?"

"I don't know," George leant over his brother's shoulder before giving Estella and Harry a pleading look. "Come on, how do we read it?"

"You can't." Estella said regretfully. "Only the original subscribers or their blood descendents can get past the charms securing the content."

"That's some pretty serious charm work," Fred frowned. "Was it really necessary?"

"Dunno." Estella shrugged truthfully. "Guess the publishers just wanted to ensure that only loyal customers could read it. Who knows…"

"Well you'd have read this one then, right? Does it say who the Marauders are?" Fred waved the magazine in question at her.

"Who, Moony, Padfoot and Prongs?" Estella refused to acknowledge Wormtail. "Only that they were, at one time, students at Hogwarts."

"That's all it says?" George pouted.

"Pity the magazine doesn't exist anymore…" Estella mused, ignoring George's last question. "Would be interesting to know where they ended up."

"Yeah," Harry added, playing along. "I wonder if they went on to lead exciting lives of mischief and mayhem…"

"Or if they went out and got real jobs and got married and had kids." Estella threw in. "Could you imagine? A Marauder with kids?"

"Never!" The Weasley twins shook their heads determinedly. "It's far too depressing to think of them as getting old like that!"

Estella and Harry shared a covert look, each fighting to contain their mirth. Sensing that it was time to change the subject – lest they give their game away by taking things too far – Estella turned their attention elsewhere.

"But hey, if it's knowledge you seek, there's a few books in the study I think you may be interested in." Several redheads shook at the mere mention of 'books' and 'study' in the same sentence; all four Gryffindor boys gravitating towards the Quidditch magazines on the lower shelves. The rest of the group, however, were inclined to go with Estella, several of them hardly able to hide their enthusiasm at the invitation to explore the book collection of one of the oldest Wizarding families.

So while Harry, Ron and the twins stayed up in the attic to pour over the Quidditch magazines, Elsie, Hermione, Ginny, Reg, John and Estella made themselves comfortable in the study. While Elsie and Ginny found common ground (i.e. boys) and absconded themselves to a corner to giggle and whisper, getting better acquainted; and Reg and Hermione sought out the oldest, heaviest tome to pour over, Estella kept herself busy showing John how the Muggle amenities of the house worked. Of her housemates, he was the only one present who did Muggle Studies.

"I'm really kind of surprised you didn't want to stay upstairs with the guys and drool over Quidditch magazines." Estella told him honestly.

"Estella, you know who my brother is." John groaned. "Not only has he got a collection of Quidditch mags to rival the one upstairs, but all anyone ever talks about in my house is Quidditch. Sure, I like the sport, but I like… I like… _other_ stuff too!"

"Ok, ok, I get it." Estella waved her hands in defeat. Despite her affirmation, she really didn't get what John really meant.

"Besides I am here for _you_, not Harry." He blushed slightly as Estella's eyes widened in surprise. "I mean, I like you better…" he faltered, "…well that is to say I don't even know Harry… but you're my friend and bollocks…" he shook his head and sighed. "It's amazing how you've managed to combine both magical and Muggle stuff here."

"Yeah," Estella nodded, grinning at John's sudden awkwardness around her. Ever since she'd been back at school since Christmas holidays, she'd began to suspect that perhaps John had come to look upon her as something more than just a friend; but she'd not really had the time to really stop and consider that fact; let alone assess her own feelings. Not being so cruel as to dwell on his nervous mumblings and embarrass him further, she followed his attention to the more neutral topic of the Muggle and magical amenities around the room. "Took some getting used to when I first came here. I mean my uncle is hardly the sort to embrace Muggle technology."

John snorted, relieved. "Understatement of the year!"

"I'd never even heard of half this stuff when I came here." she said, idly toying with the remote control in her hand. "Now it's kinda cool to have something different to do when school breaks for holidays."

"I don't know if I could live in a Muggle neighbourhood." John peered unseeingly out the window. All any of them knew about the house they were visiting was that it was in a Muggle neighbourhood. Estella could tell her friend was itching to ask more questions, but he was mindfully holding back out of politeness. He continued, "I'd miss flying."

"Well, I don't have that problem!" Estella smirked, reminding her friend of her aversion to the sport. "But hey, you thinking of trying out for the house team this year? We're going to need a new Keeper, aren't we?"

"I don't know." John said indecisively, his eyes downcast as he shuffled his feet. It was a widely known fact that John's older brother played Quidditch at a professional level; and so the expectation that it placed on John to emulate that ability weighed him down.

"Well I think you should go for it," she said.

"They'll always compare me," John whined. "I'll never measure up!"

"Who said you had to?" Estella pointed out. "You're not your brother, and it's time people see that for themselves. Besides, why care so much about what other people think? Do you think I got through my childhood of being the greasy git's niece and the convicted murderer's daughter by caring what other people thought of me?"

"Well when you put it that way…" John had the decency to blush. "I'm not going to get a chance to practice once school starts, though. Not without everyone's eyes on me, expecting me to follow through. I mean I like flying and I like Quidditch, but I'm not sure if I can be bothered setting myself up for such scrutiny."

"Is that why you only fly when no one's around?" Estella's eyes widened. As his friends, she, Reg and Elsie had accompanied John out into the Hogwarts grounds at odd hours to watch him indulge his passion. "So no one can see you?"

"Forget I said anything, I can't expect you to understand." John frowned, mistaking the tone of surprise in Estella's voice for miscomprehension.

"No! I do get it, believe me I do!" Estella assured him. "I was just surprised by how similar our situations are."

"What do you mean, you wouldn't go near a broom with a-" John began, but was swiftly cut off by the shorter girl.

"That's what everyone _thinks_." Estella confided cryptically. "I'm still not very comfortable doing it, but I've been doing it a lot lately and, well, maybe it'll grow on me, maybe it won't… but I don't like people knowing about it either in case they suddenly expect me to do it all the time, for fun."

"Wait, you've been flying?" John did a double take.

"Well last night, as you know, Harry, Dad and I flew Buckbeak…" Estella's voice trailed off. "And earlier this week I, er, got bored while visiting with my Uncle and took a broom out – just to experiment, like."

"Are you sure the hat shouldn't have put you in Gryffindor?" John looked at his young friend, silently impressed by her display of courage. He remembered their first flying lessons quite well. None of her housemates had found it easy to forget how she had unwittingly destroyed those brooms. "So, you any good?"

"Dunno," Estella shrugged. "When I'm not feeling queasy or terrified of falling, my track record in the air has generally involved being chased by evil Dark Wizards or my neurotic, overprotective uncle."

"Isn't that one and the same?" John joked, earning a poke and a glare from Estella. "Seriously though, you could come out with me next time I go up… I'll have to see what I can do about giving you some better memories in the air."

"Awww," Estella batted her eyelashes. "Chivalry is not dead after all."

John blushed.

"I tell you what," Estella said decisively. "I'll go flying with you, if you try out for the Quidditch team."

"What?"

"I'll even help you prepare, where I can." She vowed.

Their discussion of future plans was interrupted, however, by an indignant exclamation from the other side of the room.

"Estella! You haven't finished your homework?" Reg's voice was incredulous as he and Hermione stumbled across a pile of Estella's texts on the desk. On the rare opportunity she'd had to get some schoolwork done over the summer, she'd preferred to do it in the study – lest the fine, ornate writing desk of her mother's continue to sit there ceremoniously, getting no use. The desk in her room, she conversely reserved for composing her private correspondence.

"I've been busy," Estella shrugged defensively; though if she really cast her mind back over the past few weeks, she couldn't comprehend where all the time had gone. "I'm halfway through…"

"I can look over what you've done, if you like?" Hermione offered. "Looks to be the same assignments we got last summer. I won't mind."

"Hey, have you done your Potions yet?" Elsie looked up from her conversation with Ginny. Potions was one of Elsie's weaker points. "Do you have some notes on the properties of Fluxweed? I don't quite know which angle to take."

And so sparked an intellectual debate that would make any Potions Master proud. An indiscernible period of time passed, with the boisterous Gryffindors descending into the room to find the other occupants of the house pouring over class notes and revising their summer homework.

"He was right!" Harry whooped, alerting the conscientious students of his presence.

"Blimey, I though this was supposed to be a _party_!" George looked horrified.

"Its summer, and you lot are recreating the Hogwarts library in the middle of holidays!" Fred blanched. "Someone call St. Mungos! You guys ought to be committed!"

"Whatever you have better not be contagious!" The youngest Weasley boy lingered in the threshold, a safe distance from the studying teens. "Last thing I want to do is remind myself of how much homework I have to do." He blanched. "Bloody hell," he groaned. "Too late!"

The room ruptured into good-natured laughter, the knowledge-loving Ravenclaws closing their books in satisfaction. Contrary to popular belief, a Ravenclaw did, in fact, know how to let their hair down – they were just spectacularly adept at creating a balance between work and play. Fundamentals, after all, were the building blocks of fun.

"Right," Estella said, leaping from the desk she was sitting on and shaking the pins and needles out of her legs. "Who's up for pizza and a movie?"

Two faces lit up in recognition, whilst the others blinked in varying degrees of confusion. A brief explanation of Muggle cinema and pizza delivery later and all of Estella and Harry's houseguests were sold on the idea.

While Hermione was busy explaining to the others about what a pizza was and making her recommendations, Estella levelled her eyes at Harry and wagged her finger at him in warning. "You _dare_ tell Dad or _anyone_ that we started doing our homework and I swear I will tell my uncle what happened last week" she said lowly. "I suggest you strongly suggest to the Weasley boys to exercise discretion also. I will hold you equally accountable if they let it fly."

"Okay, but on one condition." Harry agreed. "Help me with my potions homework."

"Done."

* * *

A couple of hours later and the living room was amuck with greasy cardboard boxes, emptying bottles of Muggle soft drink and the potent aromas of recently ingested cheese and garlic. The teenagers were sprawled out across the room in the available collection of chairs, floor cushions and a marvellously comfortable contraption Estella introduced as a beanbag. A movie was playing loudly on the television, and popcorn flew about the room at various intervals as the respective parties jumped in their seats. 

"Get him! Get him!" The boys whooped and cheered as the good guy in the film blew up another baddie. The Weasley boys in particular, seemed to have a bit of trouble grasping the concept that the people in the 'tellybox' couldn't hear them. Beside them, Hermione and Estella were trying to convince Ginny and Elsie, that the violence depicted on the screen was really just make-believe.

"So it's just an illusion then?" Ginny's voice squeaked, her eyes chancing another look at the scene. "Muggle magic?"

"It's amazing what they can do these days." Estella nodded.

"But why would someone want to recreate such despicable violence?" Elsie asked. "Are Muggles really that depraved?"

Hermione was about to begin a whole analytical breakdown on movie genres and the perceived entertainment value for each when the girls were suddenly attacked by hail of popcorn.

"Shhhh!" the boys hissed. "We're missing it! He's about to get the leader!"

The girls scowled, but quietened down without protest. Despite their infrequent commentary, they had still managed to invest a bit of interest in the movie's story and were equally curious to find out what happened next.

But before the good guy could save his wife from the madman keeping her hostage, the screen froze on the image of the villain as he dangled from the broken window of the high rise. Estella had barely gotten a hold of the remote to try and turn the movie back on when they were alerted to a presence by the fire place.

"Now, will someone tell me what in the devil is going on here?" The intimidating voice of none other than Severus Snape cut through the atmosphere in the room like a hot knife through butter, causing all heads to spin around in shock.

"What are you doing here?" Estella asked, not meaning to be rude, but not quite knowing how to address her uncle in front of her friends when she was in her own home. In private she called him 'uncle', while at school she called him 'Professor', but since she was neither at school nor in private, she settled for not addressing him at all.

Severus impatiently gestured towards a familiar looking goblet in his hand and stared at her as though she was stupid. "Where is Lupin?"

"Not here." Estella levelled her eyes at him. "He left for _work_ this morning and won't be back here for the rest of the summer."

Taking her meaning, Severus looked disdainfully at the collection of teenagers in his niece's home and narrowed his eyes. "And just what, exactly, is going on here in his absence?"

"Movies and pizza." Estella answered, gesturing around the room in the same manner in which her uncle had addressed her moments previously. It would be pointless to point out that it was Harry's birthday, lest she open the boy up to a tirade of insults. She sighed. "Would you like me to take Remus his restorative potion or can I trust that you know where to find him?"

"I am not entirely sure I approve of your viewing choice." Severus glared at the infernal Muggle device, his jaw twitching at the sight of the character's imminent death. "Is your father aware of the violence?"

Estella shrugged. "It's just a movie!" She groaned incredulously. Inwardly, she was fuming that her uncle should be making a scene, judging something he knows nothing about. "Dad hasn't seen it, but he's seen the covers… and it's pretty obvious from that what happens."

She nodded towards the sideboard table, and Severus swept across the room, setting down the goblet of the analgesic potion that helped her godfather recover from the full moon before examining the glossy Muggle VHS covers. Around her, the assortment of teenaged Gryffindors and Ravenclaws were staring at the Potions Master's back, slack jawed and wide eyed, unable to fathom what the ruthless man would do next.

"Die Hard?" Severus' voice rumbled into a low, dangerous tone and he slammed the case down, only to pick up another. "Die _Harder_?" He positively growled, causing the Weasley boys to blanch and the girls to gasp.

Estella, on the other hand, had to bite back a grin as her uncle turned to face them slowly.

"Die Hard with a Vengeance is the next one in the series." She said conversationally. "But it's only just come out at the megaplex."

Taking all this in, Severus paused for breath, his pupils dilating into tiny pinpricks as he fought to control the agitated twitching of his jaw. To him, such a Muggle depravity was akin to Death Eater's children crowding around their parent's pensieve, keen to see a recollection of a violent attack. It didn't matter to him that the Muggle movies were not real depictions; the concept of their harmless entertainment value eluded him and he shook with rage. In an eerily calm, but cool voice, he all but whispered, "where is your father?"

"With Remus." Estella said pointedly, knowing that it would not go down well to refer to Grimmauld Place by either it's address or its current purpose as headquarters.

"You are here by yourself?" Severus' voice rose slightly, little alarm bells going off in Estella's head as she saw his knuckles whiten as he gripped the edge of the sideboard. Judging by the looks of terror on her friend's faces, she was not the only one to note that the man was about to lose control.

"No, I am not here by myself." Estella said calmly, simultaneously trying to placate him and direct his dissention towards her insubordinate behaviour. It would not do for him to lash out at Harry – like Estella knew he would be prone to do – or one of their undeserving guests. Taking a deep breath, she went for the kill. "As you can no doubt see, I have quite a bit of company."

Wide eyes stared at her from all sides as the teenagers visibly flinched in sympathy for her; the stunned looks on their faces gaping at her, all unable to comprehend why she would bait her uncle so. Immediately beside her, John and Elsie physically drew away from her; as though expecting a curse to come hurtling her way.

"There is no _adult_ supervision?" Severus breathed in and out through his nose loudly, trying to retain his resolve. His baser instincts begged for release, but he held firm; a meagre grip of rationality telling him that his ever challenged relationship with his niece would be on even more tenuous ground if he were to cause a scene.

"Well I wouldn't say that exactly… you're here, and you're an adult." Estella chanced, giving her uncle a knowing look. "And besides, most people wouldn't consider Remus or my Dad as adults anyway."

'_Not to mention the Weasley twins are of age' _Estella added mentally, but selectively chose not to mention.

Severus faltered, and though he would not admit it in such unsavoury company, she had him over a barrel… once again catching him out with his own words. Too many a time had he lamented the juvenile behaviour of his niece's other guardians, and by the looks on the faces around him, they all knew he would constitute the 'most people' Estella had alluded to.

"Very well," he said in clipped tones, angry at her candour but appreciative of her motive. Part of him toyed with the idea of doing an about-face by assuming the role of the doting uncle – if only to savour the looks of shock on his student's faces - but he reneged. The youngest Weasley boy in particular already looked about ready to keel over, and the last thing he wanted was to explain to Molly Weasley how her son had come to emulate the mental capacity of Gilderoy Lockhart – not that such a comparison was ever much of a stretch on a good day. "I shall fetch something from downstairs. I expect you all to be ready to leave by the time I return."

With that, Severus Snape swept out of the room, leaving a stunned audience in his wake.

"Bloody hell, Estella!" Harry hissed at her, his voice shaking slightly. "Do you have a death wish?"

"No, I was saving your arse!" Estella hissed in reply, lest her uncle hear them from wherever he was lurking in wait. "If I hadn't made him focus his anger on me he would have found a way to turn this on you."

"I think…" Ron stuttered. "I think I may have messed myself!"

"Ron!" The twins groaned.

"Hypocritically speaking, you dumb arses!" Ron glared at his older brothers, the look of consternation darkening when they broke out into laughter.

"Don't you mean 'hypothetically'?" Hermione goaded him gently, slipping into her familiar know-it-all role.

"That's what I said!" Ron's ears went pink as he continued to fluster. "Blimey, you can't blame a bloke for not being able to think straight after… after… _that_!" he squealed. "It's _Snape_, for crying out loud! No one expects to have the greasy git gatecrash a party in the middle of bloody summer break!"

Estella made a small noise of protest at Ron's name calling, but refrained from turning the gibbering boy out on account of the lasting impression his look of fear just moments earlier had burned into her mind. Muttering something about dormant Gryffindor virtues, she palmed the remote and turned the movie back on – safe in the knowledge that if her uncle wanted to continue throwing his weight around, he'd have her father to answer to.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" Hermione whispered in her ear. "He looks positively on edge."

Elsie and Ginny nodded in nervous agreement, the boys all too preoccupied with the film's climax.

"Relax, he's in my father's house." Estella pointed out. "He knows his words hold no real weight here. So as long as we stick to the rules Dad set, then Dad will back us up 110."

"If we make it back to your father _alive_!" John pointed out banally.

"Yes, well there is that." Estella smirked, chuckling at her friend's shock. "Relax… he wouldn't _kill_ any of us."

"Maim-" George gulped.

"Curse-" Fred cut in.

"…and torture-"

"-Yes."

Estella inhaled sharply at the twins' observation and found that in light of recent events, she couldn't bring herself to deny that it wasn't a distinct possibility. Of course she quickly reassured herself that it was crazy to entertain such doubts – the man had clearly not enjoyed what he had to do and would never have done it if he'd had a choice.

"Mmm… what I wouldn't give to drop Snape off a building!" Ron said dreamily as the film's credits began to roll. Once again the big-footed Gryffindor had forgotten whose company he was in and swallowed his foot; only this time, there were several people on hand to elbow him back to his senses. "Ow! What was that for?"

"Ron!" Several voices – most of the Weasleys – groaned at him exasperatedly, whilst one closest to him, Ginny, whispered something in his ear that caused him to pale and stutter.

"Oh, uh, right," he muttered. "S-s-sorry, Estella. I wouldn't _really_ want to murder your uncle, you know."

"Save it, Weasley." said Estella breezily. "It's not like it's the first time someone has had a gripe about my uncle." She paused and looked suggestively towards the door, before darting her eyes back to the unassuming Gryffindor. "And by the fact that my uncle hasn't come in here and hexed you yet, I gather he doesn't care about your comments, so I shouldn't either."

"Wh-what?" Ron's eyes darted towards the doorway fearfully. "W-ait… he didn't… he isn't…"

"What would a Potions Master with a fully stocked inventory need from the inferior basement lab of a novice?" Estella asked rhetorically, her eyes glinting mischievously as the gullible Gryffindor fell for her ploy and gasped.

Across from her, the Weasley twins could recognise her game immediately, the pair electing to sit back and watch their younger brother squirm, both regarding Estella with a renewed reverence.

Upon seeing her older brothers condone the psychological torture of her nearest next of kin, Ginny pursed her lips in a very Molly-fashion and leant forward. "She's having you on, Ron." Ginny pointed out, astounded at her brother's stupidity for falling for it so hard.

He blinked and stared at her disbelievingly. "No… no… no… I'm doomed! He heard! He heard! I'm going to be dropped off the Astronomy Tower! I'm going to be fed to Aragog!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Weasley." Estella snapped, knowing things had gone too far the moment the flustered Weasley had began to quiver and mumble incoherently. "My uncle probably doesn't even know Aragog exists, and even if he did, he'd soon as use you as a test subject than get rid of you entirely!"

If it were even possible, Ron's eyes went even wider, and he began to hyperventilate.

"Good heavens, Weasley, can't you take a joke?" Estella growled at the boy irritably, not feeling entirely comfortable with the predicament she had backed herself into. If this was how Ron was acting now, things would only get irreparably worse when her uncle decided to re-enter. The Slytherin side of her was beginning to wonder if her uncle was in fact just on the other side of the door, listening to their every word and waiting to see how she bailed herself out of this one.

"That's it!" Fred looked at George decisively as an unspoken message travelled between them.

"It's gone too far." George nodded at his twin and they drew their wands.

"Stupefy." They stunned their younger brother calmly, smirking lightly at the shocked looks they got in response. "What?"

"You… you did magic outside of school!" Hermione gasped reverently.

"You'll get expelled!" Reg spluttered.

"No we won't." The twins said simultaneously. "We're of age!"

"Oh, yeah…" Hermione reeled back, chagrined. "Right, that."

"Ginny, you won't tell Mum, will ya?" Fred looked at his only sister with wide eyes.

"Are you kidding?" Ginny smiled. "I was moments away from calling Snape in and having him do it!" They all sniggered at the imagery of how that would have gone down. The twins were probably the least surprised by their youngest sibling having just sided with them. She was, after all, a Weasley; and they had groomed her well.

Estella, meanwhile, had risen and crossed the room into the Study, where she descended upon the desk and stuffed her school books into her book bag. "You lot ready to go?" she said reluctantly, the last credits of the movie having just faded to black and the video switching off to reveal a screen of white noise before the TV was switched off.

"Shouldn't we wait for your uncle?" Reg asked her nervously, looking past her to the empty hallway beyond the open study doors.

"You guys get your stuff together and get the Portkey out," she said, shouldering her book bag and heading towards the hall. "I'll go let my uncle know what we're doing."

A few minutes later she was back.

"All set," she assured them. "Just as I suspected, he got started on a potion. Always does when he needs to calm down. Said I would fear for my father's health if he took us back. I don't think he's too impressed by Dad letting us hang out here alone… and he made it quite clear that he thought, and I quote, 'that the blood sport depicted in what the incongruous Muggles called entertainment was a cesspool for breeding violence'."

"Oh gee, you think?" Harry rolled his eyes, making room in the circle they had made around the Portkey so to accommodate her.

"Merlin, if your voice was any deeper, I'd say that was a flawless impersonation." Fred looked at her scowling face strangely, hefting the deadweight of his young brother by his arm whilst his twin grasped the other.

With the Weasley twins bordered either side of the unconscious Ron, the group clamoured around the doggy chew toy, which served as their Portkey. Ginny and Hermione stood on either side of the twins in the circle, with Elsie and Reg on Ginny's side and Harry and Estella on Hermione's. John, lastly, stood particularly close to Estella, a finely manicured hand coming up to rest on the shoulder strap of her book bag as she stood side on to the Portkey with her back to her housemate.

Before anyone had a chance to think about how uncomfortably close they all were, huddled around the small Portkey, they were on their way.

End Chapter: Full House

Next Chapter: Meddlesome old men and the casualties of their ways

Due: Friday 30 September


	5. Meddlesome Old Men

Disclaimer: See chapter one

Updated:Friday 30th September 2005

Beta'd by: 3-legged Dog

A/N: Well, my laptop has finally gone anddone it! It is now officially a paperweight (long story). I am now officially _borrowing_ my Dad's laptop until my final semester (ever) of uni finishes,upon which time the old man seems to think I will no longer require a computer...(!)Thankfully I've kept all my _important_ files backed up on my USB drive ever since the virus fiasco of two months ago so I haven't lost any work.However, as I have been bending over backwards trying to get all thepainfulmajor assessment pieces out of the way _before_ the end of semester so I can spend as much time as possiblefinishing this storybefore I have to give the PC back, I haven'tdone the review responses for Chapter Four yet. Choosingthe lesser of the two evils I decided to honour the posting date for this chapter and delay reviewresponses by a couple of days. I should have them in your respective in-boxes by the end of the weekend.

**Chapter 05: Meddlesome old men and the casualties of their ways.**

When they had arrived back at Grimmauld Place, all a tumble of blushing faces and tangled limbs, the hallway was deserted. A cursory check of the kitchen door told them, emphatically, that an Order meeting was taking place. The adult occupants of the house may as well be on Mars.

After saying goodbye to Estella's friends, who were all due to return home with their timed Portkey, the remaining teenagers – now out numbered by the number of redheads in the room – retired to the library on the second level which, funny enough, the teens had been using as the base of their operations. Rather than stay with them though, the twins exchanged a quiet word before excusing themselves hurriedly, only to return a few minutes later looking crestfallen.

"What's up?" Ron looked at his brothers, sensing their disappointment.

"Oh, just something we've been working on wouldn't work." George sighed.

"Well it's not that it doesn't work," Fred cut in, shooting his twin a reproachful look. "It worked on this room… it just can't get through the Impenetrable Charm on the kitchen door."

"Well funny that," Hermione drawled, barely looking up from her book. "It is a _Impenetrable_ Charm, after all!"

"Just what were you trying to do?" Harry looked at the twins curiously, sparking them off into a full-blown explanation on their latest invention, 'Extendable Ears'.

By the end of the twins' explanation, Estella was looking pensive.

"What is it?" Harry looked at his, well, he wasn't quite sure _what_ to call her, and raised a brow. "You thinking about messing with the wards again?"

"Huh?" Four faces looked at them in confusion, prompting Estella to recount the situation she'd been in that morning, and how she'd opened the locked bedroom door.

"I know what you're thinking, but it won't work." Estella shook her head. "Dad knew before I did that I'd twisted the wards… the house may not like him enough to grant him full authority, but he can still sense when I try to mess around."

"Yeah, but Estella…" Harry's voice trailed off, lest he reveal her father's identity as a Marauder to the Weasley twins, who were still largely in the dark. "I am sure _he_ wouldn't mind if you did. Like, he'd probably even be proud… you know he got up to worse at our age."

"Harry…" Estella looked at him warningly. "It doesn't pay to be presumptuous. Yes Dad can take a joke, but there are certain things where even he must draw the line. Just because we haven't found that line yet, doesn't mean it isn't there."

"Aw, come on, Estella!" The Weasley twins pouted, pleading with her. "What's the fun in being a teenager if you don't test your parent's limits? How will you ever get to know what your father will allow if you don't actively look for that line?"

"Yeah," Ron added. "What's the worst he could do if you crossed the line anyway? Fred n' George are always crossing the line with our parents and they are still in one piece."

"Yes, but Ron…" Hermione leapt to Estella's defence. "This is not some domestic family thing… this is the _Order_. This is _Professor Dumbledore's_ authority!"

"Gee, you speak of him as though he is some deity!" Fred leered. "Yes, it is Dumbledore… but come on, _we've_ been in his office enough times to know he can appreciate his students' sense of adventure."

"He is a Gryffindor, you know…" George added, as though that excluded the wise old wizard from ever coming down hard on them.

"Still… as the niece of a Slytherin, I think that the closer we hold our cards to our chest, the better." Estella reasoned. "If Dad knew it would only keep him on his guard, compromising what we get to hear… that's if he doesn't blow his lid about it and ship me off to Siberia whenever there's a meeting." She frowned. "There's got to be another way…"

As though summoned, 'another way' promptly presented itself in the form of Kreacher, who appeared in the room as if on cue.

"Mistress Black! Mistress Black!" Kreacher beseeched his favoured owner deploringly. "Kreacher is not to be telling Mistress Black what is happening in the kitchen!"

"I already know what is happening, Kreacher." Estella sighed; slipping into the role she and the others knew to be an act to retain the volatile elf's favour. "Those horrid Mudblood loving friends of my father's are plotting against all that my Grandmother held dear, right?"

"Oh, Mistress Black!" Kreacher was completely oblivious to the dripping sarcasm in Estella's tone and bowed low at her feet. "You is always knowing the scheming ways of your abominable father. How my old Mistress would be proud!"

Estella rolled her eyes at the bemused teenagers before looking back down at Kreacher, who had his face pointed at her feet.

"Kreacher," she said, an idea forming in her mind. "You said you cannot tell me what is happening in the kitchen… does that mean you can hear it?"

"Kreacher is cleaning the pantry, Mistress Black." Kreacher told her, scowling under his breath about the horrible Weasley woman who was encroaching on his beloved Mistress' kitchen and befouling it with her ways. "Kreacher is hearing things from there, Mistress. Things that would concern Mistress greatly!"

"Me?" Estella reeled back slightly. "They are discussing me?"

"Kreacher is bound not to tell Mistress." Kreacher looked at her evenly, an almost smug look on his face. "But Kreacher can…"

"-help me hear it." Estella eyes lit up, smiling brightly at the scheming House Elf.

"No one is thinking to ward the Elf entry points." Kreacher informed her suggestively, and Estella immediately grinned at her friends at the ramifications.

Motioning for a set of the extendable ears from the Weasley twins, Estella ushered Kreacher out of the room and down to the ground level of the house, the others hot on her heels.

"Now Kreacher," she began as they came to an innocent looking pillar behind the stairs. "Do you think you could take this little ear here…" she held out the extendable ear to him. "…and wiggle it under the pantry door and into the kitchen without anyone seeing? I'll need to hold on to this end, but there should be enough length, don't you think?"

Kreacher assessed the device in his hand. "Kreacher believes this to be plenty long enough, Mistress." He said. "If you is to stand here with your end Kreacher will honour his Mistress' wishes."

"Thank you, Kreacher." Estella nodded to the elf, who bowed clumsily and slipped through a hole in the wall that had not been there before, promising to return with the transmitting end of the extendable ear at first signs of the meeting adjourning.

Sure enough, just as Estella had predicted, when the wall closed up behind the elf, a thin line of string with the receiving end of the extendable ear poked from the seemingly solid brick as though it had always been there, like some stray chord of Muggle electrical wire. As the innocent looking earpiece came to life, buzzing with the faintest whisper of voices as she held it in her hand, Estella smirked at the others.

"Success!"

A hastily wrought plan of action and discussion on logistics later, and the teenagers were taking turns listening through the ear. When no adult came running to put a stop to their listening, it was immediately apparent that they had slipped in under the radar. That said, the teenagers didn't stop themselves from concocting an elaborate cover for their location. The living room immediately adjacent the shady alcove in the hallway was opened up, with those waiting to use the ears indulging in quiet games and other activities. Ron and Harry had even gone so far as to bring down their summer homework in the effort to make their quiet presence in the room justified. If anyone asked either of the burly teenagers why they were studying in the living room and not the library, they would be inclined to answer that it was because the living room was closer to the kitchen, and thereby their meals, rather than the several flights of stairs separating the library from where they ate. To further legitimise things, the glass paned double doors were opened out into the hallway, and the teenagers made the said space a part of the room by placing a lamp and an armchair in the corner closest to the elf's hidden entrance. With any luck, no one would really notice, let alone care, that said items of furniture had not always been there. Whoever's turn it was to use the ears thereby sat in that chair with either a book or Estella's walkman… though they hardly have needed to worry with such counter measures since their listening post was not within direct view of either the entrance hall, or the stairwell to the kitchens.

Estella, having been the one to facilitate their feat, was the first nominated to listen through the earpiece, and after her first turn, was surprised when an ashen-faced Harry motioned for her to come back and continue. Nothing could have prepared her, however, for what she was about to overhear; she was eternally grateful for Harry, who went at lengths to make sure the others left her alone until she was ready to pass the ear piece on. Kreacher, for all his neurotic failings, had not been wrong in his assessment that what they were saying would concern her.

"I do not believe it wise to include the children at this time." Estella could hear Dumbledore's slightly condescending voice speak in a quiet tone. She needn't have strained so hard to hear what was said next, though.

"With all due respect, Albus," her father' heated voice countered. "They are my children and I will tell them what I see fit; and there's not a damn thing you can do about it."

Estella leant back in her chair, heartened by her father's determination. She had an inkling that her father would bring up his intentions to tell Harry about the Prophecy and be met with contention. The argument on what to tell Harry had taken up most of her first time with the earpiece, and though she was unsurprised to hear the matter being discussed further, she couldn't help but wonder what prompted Harry to hand back the earpiece to her.

"I do wish you would consider my suggestion, Sirius." Albus continued wearily. "She is too young to shoulder such a burden. It is unfortunate that Selina's diary proved so revealing. That was unexpected."

"If you are suggesting that my wife did not take proper precautions in keeping the prophecy secret then I must object!" Sirius scowled defensively as a murmur of remarks from other Order members made Estella's, and so likely her father's, blood boil. "No one could ever have read that diary… no one except for Selina or Estella…" her father paused, and Estella had to listen intently to catch what her father said next. "As for your suggestion, Albus, under no circumstances will I Obliviate what little connection my daughter has to her mother!"

Her father's voice had gotten louder with each syllable, and it took all of Estella's resolve not to penetrate the wards locking the kitchen door and storming in there to confront the meddlesome headmaster who dared suggest such a thing. No wonder Harry had handed it back to her. They must have moved on from talking about Harry and what to tell him about the Prophecy and started talking about Obliviating her as soon as she'd handed the Extendable Ear to Harry.

"She knows too much!" an unidentified voice cut in. "You should not have given her the book!"

"It wasn't mine to give or take." Sirius echoed her earlier words. "In fact, it was always hers to begin with… and if anyone is to blame here, it is you Albus, and you know it!"

"Ah, yes, I do seem to recall encouraging young Selina to write in the book after the events of that Christmas." Albus admitted, though any smug satisfaction Estella could draw from the interfering old man being taken down a peg was nullified by the implication that all in the Order knew she had gone to the past – an open revelation that seemed rather unfair in light of the fact that she had had to keep it from her friends for such a long time. What was it with adults thinking kids couldn't be trusted?

"Sentimentality aside, Black, do you realise the risk?" Another voice addressed her father crudely. "In any event, she won't even remember, so what harm could it do?"

A rustle of voices murmured their agreement with the stranger's assessment, but Estella's attuned ears were quick to pick up on her father's building growl.

"My mind will not be swayed." Sirius said stubbornly. "Estella knows. Accept it… and with it, acknowledge that I will not have one of my children know while the other is kept ignorant."

"You only have one child, Black." The same obnoxious voice of dissent leered, and Estella heard the scraping back of chairs.

"I may not be Harry's father," Sirius hissed, and he must have slammed a fist on the table because a loud bang carried through her earpiece. "But James and Lily trusted me to make these sorts of decisions. If you hold any semblance of gratitude for their deaths, then you will respect their wishes!"

Estella could only nod in agreement as she noted her father's voice rising again. Inwardly, she began to wish that the Extendable Ears had eyes, too… the vivid picture in her mind of her infuriated father making some snot-nosed, arrogant jerk squirm was something she would love to add to her memory pool. Her father could be quite the intimidator… that much she knew… though whether it was from years as a Marauder, his Auror training, or an acquired defence mechanism courtesy of his jailers she was not entirely sure.

"All right, I will concede your right to your daughter." The acclaimed leader of the light relented, and Estella could just see him standing at the head of the table, waving his arms about like a conductor orchestrating his players. "But I must insist about Harry… it would not be advantageous for him to know at this time."

"You must consider what a burden such knowledge would be on his young shoulders." A voice Estella recognised immediately as Molly Weasley's piped in with all the superior, opinionated grace as only a mother who had raised so many children could have.

"What about what he will think of us when he does find out? He needs to be prepared, and you know it!" Sirius shot back. "Albus, I only just got my family back, and I refuse to build a relationship with them based on lies and deceit!"

"Well, well, aren't you changing your tune from last meeting." A new voice challenged, and Estella immediately wished they'd moved back to Grimmauld Place sooner. Up until now, Remus and her father had always attended the steadily more frequent meetings only as needed – and never together - so that the teens could stay at home.

"What happened last meeting?" her godfather's voice entered the conversation for the first time, his tone clipped and pensive. The fact the last meeting had been held over the full moon was something Estella had found a trifle insensitive. That Remus had not even the option of attending, nor had anyone fill him in on its agenda since, was even more peculiar. Estella knew that both her father and Remus made a point of keeping each other abreast at all times – the pair often caught out having hushed conversations when they thought the two teenagers living under their roof had gone to bed.

"Something I regret." Sirius huffed.

"You regret the implications of our last discussion, Sirius?" The headmaster sounded concerned, cautious even.

"Of course I bloody well regret it!" Sirius blasted back, his grip on his temper having finally slipped. With a tone of self-reprimand, he goaded. "I cannot believe I actually let you talk me into it!"

"Talk you into what, Sirius?" Remus sounded about as alarmed as she was.

"Can we please move onto something else? It's bloody done with now and there's nothing I can do to change it, damn it." Sirius asked desperately, and Estella could sense from his tone that he'd be prone to doing more than just shout if push came to shove. Remus, knowing his friend well, had evidently known better than to press her father for details at that time for he did not rephrase his question.

"Oh don't sound so victimised, Black, it's not like you didn't do everything you could to get out of doing it." That same, antagonistic scowl from the unidentifiable Order member assaulted her ears and once again Estella wished she were in the room so that, in the very least, she could put a face to the voice. She scowled as it continued its poisonous diatribe. "From what I recall, you left it to Snape."

"I should never have consented."

"Well at least that we can agree on." Molly Weasley cut in, her tone both sympathetic and admonishing. "How is the poor child? Has she spoken of it?"

"Of course she hasn't." Her father hissed, his voice cracking. "She doesn't realise I knew all along what happened with Severus…" he paused, and Estella could almost swear she heard him choke back a sob. "…that I condoned it... at your bloody behest Albus, but allowed it all the same! How in the hell am I supposed to get close to my own daughter now? She's not used to coming to me about things, that much is abundantly clear, and yet what do I do? Create a situation where she is compelled to keep something from me! Oh, what have I done?"

"Allowed what, Sirius?" Remus demanded, apparently ignoring the body of Sirius' self-reprimand. "What happened with Severus? Will someone please tell me what the hell happened last meeting?"

"Estella was tested."

Estella gasped in shock and yanked the earpiece from her ear, not able to listen any more. The Weasley twins, having seen the movement, darted forward for their turn, oblivious to her building distress. Her eyes, however, had locked with Harry's, who was sitting closest to the hallway facing her. After seeing the imperceptible shake of her head as she darted her eyes from Harry to the Weasley twins and back again, the bespectacled Gryffindor intercepted the pair and pulled them back. Smiling apologetically at the twins for her premature actions, Estella then reluctantly put the piece back in her ear. As much as she didn't want to continue listening at this point, she didn't particularly want the others to know, either.

"I didn't want to do it, Remus!" Sirius was pleading with his friend, and it dawned on Estella that Remus did not know what had transpired over the past week. "Merlin I wish you had been there, you would have stopped me from being so stupid!" her father's voice turned venomous. "I don't know why I didn't realise it sooner! You… you planned the meeting on the full moon so that I couldn't count on Remus for guidance! Don't deny it!"

"Sirius… Remus…" Albus Dumbledore was at an uncharacteristic loss of words. "An unfortunate coincidence, nothing more, I assure you. Had I known you valued Remus' advice so much I would have insisted we reconvene…"

"Bullshit." Her father cursed, muttering something unintelligible under is breath and causing Estella's eyes to widen at the shock of his profanity. Sure, she had heard her father curse when he'd thought she wasn't around, but she'd never envisioned him using such language in the presence of his former headmaster… though right at that moment, she could hardly blame him.

"Sirius is right." A firm voice that, much to her chagrin, Estella could not place save it was one of the people who had been at her house that night she'd snuck out to Hermione's. "You pressured him into making a decision and didn't give him time to think it over."

The earpiece became flooded with noise as the kitchen below erupted into a heated debate, no one voice distinguishable through the eavesdropping device.

"Silence." Albus' voice hushed them like a bunch of obedient dogs, and Estella could not help but to think magic had been involved. "While I regret the methods by which the decision was made, I stand by the reasons it needed to be done."

"Ridiculous." Her godfather hissed lowly, and Estella got much comfort from the hint of anger in his voice. Remus Lupin was habitually quietly spoken and well mannered… so that he was now hissing and virtually growling indicated to all who knew him that he was more than just extremely angry. He continued, "Nothing could justify such a pointless, inhumane practice being subjected upon a child."

"Remus, I appreciate that you were not present at the last meeting, so I will digress." Albus said in a sickeningly condescending tone that Estella was sure did not go down too well with her godfather. "But as I explained at that time, it was… and is… vitally important for Severus to maintain favour with Voldemort."

"What's that got to do with anything?" Remus asked testily. "What does it have to do with Estella?"

"I believed that if Severus could, without request, present Voldemort with the news of recent events in Estella's life, volunteering the results of her testing, it would work wonders towards securing Tom's trust."

"But what would Voldemort care about Estella's magical development?" Remus scowled. "He bloody well wants her dead! He's cast the killing curse at her each time they've met!"

"Yes… and each time she got away." Dumbledore had an uncanny knack of pointing out the obvious at the most inopportune of times. "And if I know Tom as well as I think I do, then I fully suspect that she has subsequently piqued his curiosity."

"But why?" Remus continued in his puzzlement. "Voldemort did not request the information. He might not have cared to know at all."

"He most likely would have asked it of Severus in time…"

"But why jump the wand?" Remus scowled again. "Surely you did not insist on a child's suffering and a potential family breakdown in the name of one man winning a few points with a crazed, insane lunatic?"

"That's what he did, Moony." Estella could hear her father's voice whisper to her godfather dejectedly. "Oh, what have I done? If Estella ever finds out, I'll never forgive myself…"

"You had better hope Estella doesn't find out." Remus said curtly. "For right now I don't know what to think of your stupidity. I am quite frankly appalled, Albus, that you would insist upon all these secrets. Why not tell Harry of the prophecy? Why not be up front with Estella about the testing and let her make an informed choice…without risking a relationship she is only just beginning to develop with her father? Whatever did Severus tell the child? Or did he simply test her and Obliviate her afterwards?"

"No matter what, Remus, I will not permit Estella's mind to be altered." Sirius informed his friend. "I don't disagree with what you did after she fell from that broom, but you of all people know how that backfired. I won't risk that again anymore than you would. I may be stupid, but I am not that stupid"

"Indeed." Remus muttered, before rephrasing his question. "What does she believe to be the reason for her testing?"

"That Severus was driven by Lucius Malfoy's insistence." Albus stated. "Which, in itself, is not entirely a lie for I am sure that as soon as Estella reached an age where her maturation could not be denied, Lucius would have began to pressure Severus for information for his own purposes."

"Why?" Remus challenged. "He only wants her dead too! You know full well the state she was in when she returned!"

"That she was alive after a day in Lucius' company, gentlemen, is telling in itself." Dumbledore mused openly. "I suspect that there is more to Mr. Malfoy's intentions towards the child than meets the eye. On the contrary, I believe his actions to be driven by a desire to control her."

"You do realise that Estella would likely have volunteered her cooperation had all this been explained to her." Remus said wearily. "If she was aware that you wanted it done to ensure her uncle's safety within Voldemort's circle, she wouldn't have hesitated. I just don't see how the lies are justified. She's too smart to be kept in the dark. Are you that concerned, Albus, by how your students regard you, to let your true intentions with them be known?"

Estella did not bother to listen for any response for she had well and truly heard enough (though inwardly she was happy that her godfather was speaking her mind). Yanking the earpiece from her ears with so much force that it pulled the string taut, snapping the connection entirely, she rubbed at her eyes, which were burning heatedly as though she'd been forgetting to blink for the past five minutes. As much as she tried to convince herself that the snippets of conversation she had heard were incomplete and thus prone to being taken out of context, Estella could not deny the weight of the words swimming around in her mind.

Albus Dumbledore had not only coerced her father into commissioning her uncle to conduct her magical testing, but worst still, they had all felt the need to _lie_ to her about it. Throughout Estella's unconventional upbringing, one of the things she had been raised to abhor was the act of lying. She was both discouraged from being dishonest, and was respected the same courtesy and openness in return. Though her uncle would condone misdirection and shameless twisting of the truth – which is, she supposed, how the man justified his ambiguous explanation for his need to test her – he openly despised lying. Her godfather, too, had set an early precedence in being open and honest with her also, though now, after hearing what her father had said in passing about an apparent broom incident she'd had whilst with her godfather but could no longer remember, she was beginning to doubt the werewolf's integrity.

The double whammy of finding out she had been lied to by both her father and godfather tore at her… as much as her uncle played a more active role in this as anyone, she could not, however, see past the man's look of self-reproach as he carried out what she now knew to be Dumbledore's orders. Though he had misled her to believe it was at Lucius Malfoy's insistence that she be tested, she could not deny that her uncle's answers had been statements, mostly hypothetical, and it was as much her fault for not asking more pointed questions. In hindsight, she realised with a crushing force, that her lingering suspicions at the time had not been unfounded… the recent revelations of Dumbledore's deceit bringing to mind an obscure passage from _Hogwarts: A History_ by which it was written that only Hogwarts staff – or those with access to a Floo within the school's exclusive Internal Floo Network – could send letters via fireplace.

What unsettled her even more than the lies and the secrets, was the attitude of one Albus Dumbledore. Her uncle had always warned her against becoming too close to the man who would one day stand to be a figure of utmost authority in her educational life at Hogwarts. In hindsight, she could see that there must have been more to it than her uncle wanting her to revere the headmaster and not look upon him as some lovable grandfather sort that she had favour with. But no matter her detached wariness – a paranoia, it could be said, that her uncle had instilled most prevalently in her character – never in her wildest imaginations had she'd never thought him capable of such undermining actions. Forthcoming and a venerable resource for advice yes, but manipulative and insistent upon it? No.

It was no wonder her father had seemed so at ease after she'd pointed out to him that he had overall authority over her and Harry. Dumbledore had obviously been taking advantage of his position in her father's life to impose his parenting advice on Sirius. After 12 years in Azkaban, coming out to find himself raising first one, then two teenagers, her father was always questioning his parenting ability whenever it came to the big, important decisions. She therefore suspected that her father was vulnerable to taking the advice of someone perceivably knowledgeable and infallible as Dumbledore, and that Dumbledore, being so all-knowing and annoying with his innocent looking twinkling eyes and alluring, harmless-old-mentor demeanour, had been fully aware of that weakness and took to Sirius like a sculptor palming malleable clay. It had taken an innocent observation from his daughter to cause the paradigm shift in Sirius' perception, thus giving him back the confidence to think for himself.

It was just a shame it had come too late to prevent him from making such a horrible mistake.

So caught up in her thoughts was she, that she was completely oblivious to George and Fred's dismay when they saw their prototype had been accidentally destroyed. Harry and Hermione, being somewhat more aware of the aghast look on her face and vacant, lost expression in her eyes to realise that it was not brought on by the severing of their listening device, were instantly more concerned and trying to ply at her for answers of a different kind. Locking eyes with Harry, she muttered something unintelligible about needing some time to sort through what she just heard, and brushed past the congregating teenagers, making for the staircase.

"Wait! Not fair!" The oblivious Weasley boys protested, stampeding after her. "Least you can do is tell us what you heard!"

"Nothing that concerns _you_." Estella snapped, echoing Kreacher's earlier words and casting a meaningful look at Harry as she emphasised specifically the last word she spoke. "Now if you'd be so kind as to excuse me, I would like to be alone."

"Were they talking about you?" The ever-tactless Ron pushed on, his omniscient Gryffindor curiosity not knowing where to draw the line.

"None of your business." Estella said coolly, before gesturing towards the kitchen door. "I am beginning to think that perhaps the adults ward the door for a reason. Some things we are just not meant to hear."

"And yet you did, so out with it!" one of the Weasley twins – Estella was too on edge to acknowledge which – demanded of her.

"Guys… maybe we should leave Estella alone." Harry suggested, pulling them aside so that Estella could pass. "Are you okay, Estella?"

Allowing herself a small smile, Estella sighed. "Confused as hell and royally pissed off, but other than that…" she trailed off. "Right now I've half a mind to blast my way downstairs and demand some answers for myself, but to be honest I don't know if I can be bothered with them anymore."

"Who, the Order?" Another of the twins piped up.

"Their grasp of politics… of standard, human rights, is questionable, to say the least." She said dismissively, still intent on not divulging details but knowing they'd hardly let her alone if she did not give them something to feed on. "They seem obsessively intent on coddling us and keeping us all in the dark… at all costs."

"Like we needed to overhear a conversation to get that impression." Ron rolled his eyes, while Hermione's eyes narrowed at her with an uncanny clarity as the bright young witch drew her own astute conclusions.

"Guys, let it rest." Harry stood between Estella and the Weasleys, bodily blocking their attempts to crowd around the confused girl.

"Yeah, Harry's right." Ginny shot Estella a look, not quite knowing what had spooked Estella so much, but somewhat identifying with the look of complete and utter desolation on the young Ravenclaw's face. "Leave her alone. If we had any business in knowing, she'd tell us."

"Yes, Ginny, I would." Estella nodded slightly, before backing away even further. "Harry, could you tell Dad when you see him next that I am in my room and wish to speak with him?"

She waited for Harry's affirmation before finally excusing herself and walking up the stairs with a contemplative deliberation in each step.

By the time the soft knocking of her father roused her from her thoughts, Estella was not of any clearer mind about what she wanted to do with the information she now knew. While part of her wanted to yell and scream and let her feelings become quite clear to those who had hurt her, the other part of her resented their actions to the point where she felt they did not deserve such honesty. When she saw the drawn, tired expression on her father's face, however, another feeling rushed at her heart. She found she couldn't bring herself to be open with the man at this time because, by the looks of him, what she had to say to him right now would surely crush him. Instead, Estella bit her tongue and bode her time… yes she was still infuriatingly mad at the man – and at the very least she was owed some answers – but such a confrontation, she felt, could wait until she had a clearer mind about what she'd heard and had calmed down a bit.

"You all right, kiddo?" Sirius looked at his daughter warily, worry clouding his eyes. "Harry said you wanted to see me?"

"Does something have to be wrong with me to want to see you?" Estella cut back, perhaps a little too shortly than she had intended.

"Estella?" Sirius brow furrowed, and he took a step towards her, to where she was sitting on the edge of the bed, her hands clenched into little fists as they rested on her knees.

"I need to ask you a favour…" Estella began, thinking of a cover to account for her mood. "I need you to bunk with Remus for a while. I don't want to share my room tonight."

It was a matter of fact that Ginny and Hermione's things had been moved into the room shortly after Sirius and Remus' arrival at the house.

"What?" Sirius' eyes narrowed in confusion… he had been sure Estella had been getting along fine with Harry's friend Hermione and the Weasley girl.

"It's nothing against them, it just feels wrong." Estella sighed. "I share a dorm all year, I don't think I should have to do it all summer too. It's bad enough we can't go out and do normal things."

"I know you'd rather be home, kiddo, but since Moony and I need to be here for meetings so often now, it's safer for us all to stay. We're all put out, believe me; and Harry has to share too…" Sirius frowned, for he did not want to be seen as favouring one child over the other and right now Estella was sounding particularly self-absorbed and pretentious.

Sensing this, Estella looked at her father pointedly. "Harry's situation is different. The Weasleys are _his_ friends. I don't really _know_ these people and it's not fair that I should have to be forced to cohabit with them when my own friends can't even stay over. Come on, it's not like I am asking you to share a room with my uncle! You and Remus are like brothers, right? I thought there wouldn't be a problem."

Sirius sat down heavily next to his daughter who, it did not escape his attention, shifted away from his touch.

"Estella, what's wrong?" Sirius asked, his concern deepening. "Is there something else?"

"Why are they even here?" she snapped suddenly. The party had been nice, there was no doubt about that, but since her friends had to leave, she was of the mind that the others had overstayed their welcome. To now spend her summer surrounded by so many people when she'd been denied her father for so many years just seemed so unfair, and given her mood, she was prone to irrational thought. "Are there any prophecies about _them_ or some other reason in particular that Dumbledore wants to add them to his puppet show?"

"Estella!" Sirius was surprised by his daughter's tone. Not entirely unsympathetic, but surprised she had come out with it. He rubbed a hand over his face as he struggled to find a diplomatic response. "Their parents are actively involved in the Order, Estella." He said. "With meetings being so frequent now…"

"Hermione's parents aren't in the Order." Estella pointed out. "They aren't even magical!"

"All the more reason for her to be here!" Sirius said exasperatedly. "Surely you realise the risk on her life! _He_ would do anything to get to Harry; including going after his friends!"

"Oh, so my friends are unimportant, then?" Estella frowned, feeling dreadfully foolish that she hadn't even stopped to consider the risk a Muggleborn witch had, living in a non-magical home such as Hermione's. Too far gone to ever admit defeat, however, she pushed on. "What if _Voldemort_ goes after _my_ friends, knowing that it would draw _me_ out, which will then draw _Harry_ out…"

"We have considered that possibility." Sirius admitted, "and decided it was a negligible risk. You are not as open about who your friends are as what Harry is. It is unlikely Voldemort will think you would be as affected-"

"What, so everyone thinks I'm a cold, unfeeling, friendless git then?" Estella pushed herself off the bed and skulked over to the shadowed corner of the room, where she fell into a wingback and stared out the window. "You try living as the niece of a double agent and see how _you_ come off, then!"

Sighing wearily, Sirius rose to his feet slowly and turned around towards his daughter. Before he could open his mouth to speak, however, Estella stilled him with a hand.

"Don't." she said, turning her head to look at him with a steely gaze. "Just go."

"But… Estella?" Sirius ran a hair through his thick, wavy locks and took a tentative step forward. "I've never seen you like this… you're worrying me, kiddo…"

"Yes, well, no offence, but there's a lot about me you don't know, Dad." Estella half scowled, looking him in the eye for the first time. "Just like there's a lot I don't know about _you_."

Upon seeing the heated look in his daughter's eye, Sirius reeled back, rising to his feet to place distance between himself and those fathomless orbs of his daughter. "I know, sweetheart…" Sirius struggled to find the words, and Estella could see the guilt flashing across her father's eyes. "But I'm trying, really I am."

Estella stared at him for a long moment before nodding in defeat. Save starting her full-blown rant, she'd already said too much.

"You'd think I'd know better." Sirius said suddenly, a reminiscent light flickering in his eyes as he attempted to lighten the mood. "Your mother always commanded a wide berth when she was PMSing…"

Estella couldn't help it. Something inside of her snapped. "You just keep telling yourself it's only PMS." She said darkly, her tone glacial as she returned her gaze out to the dark fog outside. Her hands compulsively gripped the edges of the armchair, her fingers itching to throw something at the clueless, insufferable man before her. The red hot anger she'd felt prior to her father's admission into the room began to flood her veins and the tenuous grasp she had on her humanity – the part of her heart and soul that was loath to make her father sad – was beginning to slip. Settling for looking him squarely in the eye, she took a deep breath and instantly regretted her next words.

"You have no idea."

"No, I don't." Sirius admitted dejectedly, and Estella did all she could to stop herself physically slapping herself for being so dense; of all the ways to send her father running back to Dumbledore for advice.

"Do you want me to call for Remus?" he asked, shifting his weight nervously from foot to foot as the uncomfortably silence between them dragged out.

If anything, Estella's glare intensified at her father's suggestion and she found a way to redeem herself. "Just because Moony has known me longer, Dad," she whispered hoarsely, her frustration becoming known. "It doesn't bloody well mean he holds the answers to everything! When will you stop second-guessing yourself and start acting like a real parent?"

A pained, bleary look coming over Sirius' eyes, and the Animagus was at a loss for words. Gaping openly at his daughter's uncanny ability to effortless finger what was wrong with him, he was awash with a sense of failure. How was it that a 13-year-old girl could be so damn perceptive when he was supposed to be her father and the one reading her like a book? Just when he thought he was beginning to have her pegged, she went and did something unexpected, and he was at square one again.

As he sighed despondently and excused himself from the room, promising to see to the other girl's sleeping arrangement so that his daughter could get the alone time she craved, Sirius was oblivious to the fact that he was not alone on that proverbial square one.

* * *

When Estella didn't come down for breakfast the next morning, the house was abuzz with speculation. Unnerved by the look in her eyes the night before, Sirius was reluctant to impose himself upon his daughter, uninvited. Remus, too, was inclined to let Estella come down on her own steam… having known from experience that to all try and rouse her would only result in her feeling smothered, but the teenagers weren't as easily convinced.

"I can't believe she kicked Ginny and Hermione out!" Ron was incredulous, having ranted on about spoiled, only children all morning. "No wonder she gets along so well with Malfoy, the git."

"Shut up, Weasley." Harry was at his last tether with the big-mouthed Gryffindor and had taken to calling him by his last name, much like Estella did when she was irked. "I know Estella. She has her reasons."

"Yeah, but mate, you've only lived with her for a couple of weeks." Ron pressed on. "You can't possibly know her that well."

Harry sighed, for as much as he hated to admit it, his friend was right. "Yes, but just trust me on this, okay?" he sighed. "You didn't hear what they were talking about last night. I am sure Estella just needs the time alone to sort things out in her head."

"Balmy if you ask me." Ron said with a tone of finality before turning around to Ginny and challenging her to a game of chess.

Harry could only stare after Ron as he departed, shaking his head at the redhead's attention span. Beside him, Hermione mirrored his actions.

"Harry, do you think Estella is all right?" Hermione asked once they were alone… the twins having sequestered themselves in their room shortly after breakfast to repair their extendable ears. "I understand if you don't want to tell me, but can I at least ask what it was that made you hand those ears back to Estella? It's obvious to me that whatever she heard has her shattered."

"There's something she knows…" Harry muttered, after making sure no adults were around. "Something she found out by accident… something Dumbledore doesn't want her to know."

"So?"

"He… he…" Harry looked around again nervously, before leaning in close to Hermione's ear, "wanted Sirius to obliviate her."

"What?" Hermione leapt back in shock, a look of disbelief on her face. "Are you sure that's what you heard? I mean, I wouldn't put it past an invention of the twins to twist the words it is conveying."

"I thought of that too," Harry admitted. "But even they wouldn't pull a prank like this. We all saw how shaken up Estella was afterwards… they would have come clean straight out if that were the case."

"But what is it that she could know that Dumbledore would want to keep secret so badly?" Hermione whispered.

"I don't know." Harry frowned. "All I know is that it involves a book of her mother's and that Sirius was pushing for permission to tell me too. He doesn't want secrets between us."

"Well that sounds reasonable…" Hermione frowned. "But maybe Dumbledore has reason..."

"If Dumbledore was justified, then I doubt Sirius would be so against wiping Estella's memory of it." Harry pointed out.

"What are you going to do?" Hermione asked as Harry backed away, a determined look on his face.

"I'm going to go talk to her, what do you think?" he said distractedly, before fleeing the room.

* * *

"Oh, it's you." Estella didn't look up from where she sat on the windowsill, staring out of the grimy window. "I suppose you want to know what's going on, then."

"Well, I do have a few questions." Harry sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed farthest from the door so that he could face her. "Since I gave you back the earpiece, I think I'm entitled to ask."

"I can't tell you what was in my mother's diary, Harry." Estella looked at him; tell tale rings around the eyes suggesting that she hadn't slept a wink the night before. "I fully acknowledge that you have every right to know, but it isn't my place to tell you."

"So what, you're just going to keep it to yourself until Dumbledore finally convinces Sirius to obliviate you, is that it?" Harry was frustrated at the non-disclosure. "Put yourself in my shoes, Estella. I would tell you!"

"You can't say that without knowing the facts first! Damn it, Harry." Estella scowled. "You think I don't want to tell you? I made a promise… and unlike other people in this family, I honour my word."

"Then why have you shut yourself up here like a recluse and thrown the girls out?" Harry asked.

"Merlin Harry, do you think that the only thing bothering me is Dumbledore wanting Dad's permission to obliviate me and my angst at having to continue keeping a secret from you?" Estella laughed mirthlessly. "If only those were the only things I had to worry about!"

"There was something else you overheard?" Harry frowned. "You want to talk about _that_, then?"

"Well, since it concerns me, I have no qualms in telling you." Estella sighed, motioning Harry to sit in the armchair by the window so that they could be closer. Waiting until he was sitting down comfortably, she continued to stall. "You want anything to eat or drink? Kreacher's been waiting on me hand and foot all morning. I can assure you he won't try to poison you."

"No, no, I'm fine." Harry shook his head. "Mrs. Weasley put on a huge breakfast. Quit stalling."

Estella rose and crossed to her desk, where Kreacher had left some bottles of Butterbeer for her to drink at her convenience. It would not have done for Kreacher to be seen making multiple trips to the kitchen on her behalf. Handing him one wordlessly, she reclaimed her seat on the sun-warmed windowsill and began to explain about her suspicions that both her father and godfather had kept things from her. After briefly asking his thoughts on the broom situation, she moved on to more recent matters.

"I was tested for my magic." She said quietly, "while I was at Hogwarts with… with my uncle. You do know what that means, don't you?"

Harry nodded, mortified. "How? Why on earth… are you all right?"

"I'll be fine." She assured him, patting his knee. "Child's play compared to the games Lucius Malfoy plays."

"Does your Dad know? I mean did he know before the meeting?" Harry asked, catching on quickly that the subject of her testing must have come up the night before.

"Well that's just it, Harry… I thought he didn't know." Estella's voice became shaky as she struggled to hold onto her emotions. "I thought Uncle Severus was acting alone… that his hand was forced by Malfoy after something stupid I did while at the school." She waved away his unasked question, making a mental note to question her uncle about how he'd known she'd sent a letter to Draco. Then again, she would no longer put it past the headmaster to have intercepted her mail and made a point of referring to its unreadability in his note to her uncle. Caught by the satisfaction that her precautions had prevented the nosy old coot from reading her mail, she smiled wistfully, even though her eyes were unnaturally bright. How it must be driving the old man nuts, not knowing what she'd written to Draco.

"No, that doesn't matter now…" her voice trailed off, and she turned away quickly to brush away the tears forming in her eyes. Taking a deep breath and looking Harry back in the eyes, she continued. "What I found out last night, Harry, was that it wasn't Lucius Malfoy forcing my uncle's hand… it was Albus Dumbledore." Harry gasped. "And what's more, they needed to get permission from Dad, first."

"So, Sirius knew?" Harry was beside himself.

Nodding violently, Estella didn't care to stop her tears now, the jerky movement of her head causing droplets of tears to forgo a salty trail on her cheeks and fly directly onto her knees instead. "He didn't want to do it." She said, more to try and console herself than reassure Harry. "But I just don't understand how he could ever consent! Does he really think so little of himself that he lets Dumbledore make decisions for him? About what's best for us?"

"That manipulative bastard." Harry cursed, wasting no time in sitting himself on the windowsill next to Estella and wrapping his arms around her, letting the distraught girl sob into his shoulder. "That kind of explains why Sirius was yelling at him so much while I was listening."

"Yes, I think Dad has learnt from that mistake." Estella tried to focus on what good had come out of the experience. "I don't think he'll be following Dumbledore's advice so blindly in future."

"Dumbledore mustn't be too pleased about that." Harry frowned.

"He wasn't." Estella agreed, smirking slightly. "But there's not a whole lot he can do about it… Dad is completely within his right to exercise his exclusive authority over us. He is a free man now – there's nothing anyone can hold over him."

"I never thought Albus Dumbledore to be the sort to exploit people's weaknesses to get what he wanted." Harry frowned. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say it was more like something Voldemort would do."

"No, I wouldn't go that far." Estella admitted reluctantly. "I am sure Dumbledore means well… he is just as human as the rest of us though, it seems… and people like Dad and Moony are getting a glimpse of that. Like Dumbledore has such an interest in your life because you're Harry Potter… just like he had a finger in how I was raised because my uncle's status as a spy was important to him."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well let's just say that I think Dumbledore would go to any length to ensure my uncle kept the favour of the Dark Lord." Estella cited the subject of her testing as a prime example. "I have a feeling I would have had to follow in my uncle's footsteps and become a spy too had my father not been exonerated. There would have been no way for me to live with another guardian since Remus can't be my guardian on paper because of his lycanthropy. Unless I wanted to compromise my uncle's loyalties, I would have had to go along."

"That's intense." Harry's eyes went wide. "Do you really think it would have come to that?"

Estella nodded, reminding him of how she had to act the part of a loyal Death Eater's child for the first two years of her education at Hogwarts and how Dumbledore had only encouraged it.

"It must have really messed with your head… essentially being raised two different ways at the same time." Harry marvelled.

Estella shrugged, her mind regressing back to the conversation she'd had with her father late the night before. '_You are not as open about who your friends are as what Harry is,_' her father had said. Was she really so impartial and indifferent towards her friends that people would think she would be unaffected if anything ever happened to them? Were her friends even aware of how much she cared? She was roused from her darkening thoughts by Harry, who was desperately trying to draw her attention away from the feelings he must have been able to see written all over her face. For some reason she could never quite seem to put her mask up around him… perhaps it was because they were just so similar in all that they had respectively been through that they had a unique way of understanding each other.

"Well here's hoping Dumbledore stops trying to meddle in our lives now we have Padfoot back." Harry said hopefully, as he toasted Estella with his bottle and took a swig. "Sirius deserves the opportunity to be a parent after all he went through. Have you told him what you overheard?"

"No." Estella looked away, her eyes downcast, her hand pausing mid air as she faltered in her toast. "I was too mad to think straight last night… didn't want to say something to him that I would regret. He looked so fragile when I saw him … like he was terrified of me. I think he knows he screwed up royally."

"He wouldn't, um, you know…" Harry pushed his glasses up his slippery nose and regarded her with a sidelong look. "Screw up so royally with me?"

"You mean consent to having you tested?" Estella quirked a brow, and Harry nodded. "Harry, short of feeding you a love potion and locking you in a room with a member of the opposite sex, there's not a great deal of control he can exert in _your _situation."

Harry pulled back the neck of his Butterbeer bottle mid-swig and sniffed at it suspiciously, his eyes fleeting from the door, to the bottle, to Estella, and back again.

"Oh Harry please," Estella shook her head at his theatrics. "If anything, they would want to keep you a virgin indefinitely so that Voldemort couldn't find out your strengths. Not that the tests actually prove much of anything, mind you. It's a load of codswallop. That's why those of us with half a brain don't see a point in it anymore."

"Are you still mad at him?" Harry asked once the heat in his face had dissipated from when Estella had looked in square in the eye and spoken openly of his virginity. "I don't know how I would feel if I knew I'd been lied to like that."

"A little…" Estella sighed. "But he's my Dad, you know? I can't stay mad at him. It wasn't his fault."

"What do you mean?" Harry frowned. "He could have said no. He could have stood firm… Merlin knows he is stubborn enough."

"But is he, Harry? Is he really stubborn enough to withstand Dumbledore's insistence?" Estella looked at him evenly. "He's not had the chance to raise us properly… you know how worried he gets when he thinks he is stuffing something up! Remus and Dumbledore are probably the only two people he would trust for parenting advice, and Dumbledore took full advantage of that. It's him I blame, if anyone… Dad trusted that Dumbledore had my best interests at heart, when really he didn't. Everything that man does is motivated by getting one over on Voldemort."

"But what about Remus?" Harry asked. "Surely he would have set your father straight and stopped Dumbledore from-"

"He would have, if he was there that meeting." Estella said bitterly. "He was absent because of the full moon… Dumbledore claims it was all a coincidence and that had he known Sirius wanted Remus' opinion on the idea he'd have waited for a decision, but if you ask me, it all sounds a little too convenient."

Harry swore a few more derogatory terms aimed towards the Headmaster's sneaky dealings and compulsively flattened his fringe over his scar. "Are you sure you can't tell me what Dumbledore wants to keep from me?" Harry asked. "I mean it has to be something he wants to keep from me, right? I don't buy that he wants to Obliviate you just to keep balance."

"You're quick." Estella grimaced. "But as much as I want to rub Dumbledore's nose in it, I promised Dad."

"Yes, but after what _he _did, surely you cannot still be to intent to respect his wishes." Harry pouted. "Come on… just this once."

"No, Harry." Estella sighed. "Don't you see? As soon as I start lying by breaking a promise like that, I am as bad as them."

"So? Sirius is older… he started it."

"Yes, but I know better, don't I?"

"It's not fair." Harry scowled.

"I know it's not," Estella sighed after a slight pause. "But I am sure if you confronted him about it, he couldn't deny it."

"But would it be a good idea to let him know we were listening?" Harry frowned. "I mean I don't want to confront him until you're ready to talk to him about what you heard. I have a feeling he'll seek you out as soon as he suspects we've been listening in."

"I'll talk to him after lunch." Estella set her empty bottle aside and rubbed her hands on her thighs before getting up decisively. "If he doesn't pull you aside for a chat after that, I'll show you tomorrow."

"Show me?"

"I promised my father I wouldn't tell you, Harry." Estella grinned slightly. "But I said nothing about _showing_ you. I have full power to alter the privacy charms on my mother's diary… I can do it and say with all honesty that I thought you might like to read my mother's recollections about your infancy and how James and Lily were with you."

"There's other things about me in there?"

"Of course there are, Harry." Estella said sadly. "They all doted on you… the only reason I haven't shared the diary with you was because of what is in there about the secret Dumbledore wants kept… but right now I don't give a flying hoot what Dumbledore wants and it would give me great pleasure in getting one over on him."

"Why don't you just show me now, then?"

"Because I want to give Dad a chance to tell you first." She told him simply. "Like you said, Harry… he deserves the chance to be a parent."

"Fair enough." Harry agreed.

"But Harry…" Estella called him back as he turned to leave. "Let's not let on that we overheard anything, shall we?"

"I don't understand," Harry murmured, faltering in his step. "How are you going to let your Dad know that you know what he did without telling him you overheard?"

"Harry, you're forgetting who my uncle is." Estella rose to her full height and crossed her arms across her chest, her face twisted into a very Snapesque smirk. "All those years of keeping up my uncle's cover were not for naught, my dear Gryffindor."

"What are you going to do?" Harry asked reverently, altogether relieved he was not in his godfather's shoes at that time.

"I don't know yet." Estella answered honestly, her arms falling to her sides. "But I know I will think of something. I don't want anyone knowing we can hear the meetings, and I especially don't want Dumbledore to know that we know he's every bit the meddlesome old coot my uncle is always saying that he is."

"Why not?" Harry asked dumbly, his baser Gryffindor impulsiveness wanting nothing more than to storm into the old man's office and do some damage.

"Why, think of the fun we could have, Harry!" Estella grinned evilly. "Playing Dumbledore at his own game!"

* * *

"I was glad to see you at lunch, sweetheart." Sirius, predictably, had leapt at the chance to talk to his daughter alone as soon as he'd seen her drift off into a room free of the other teenagers. "I'm still worried about you, you know."

"I know." Estella wasn't giving him any rope.

"So, uh…" Sirius rubbed the back of his neck, irritated by his own shortcomings, and fumbled his words. "You know I'm here for you, right?" He sounded almost desperate in his need to assure her of that fact constantly. "You know you can talk to me, right? And… and… if you don't want to tell me anything… if you'd rather tell someone else… I won't be offended."

Estella watched on passively as her father struggled with his words, constantly pausing and looking at her as though anticipating the reassurances she had previously been so quick in offering. When she could torture her father no more, she cleared her throat.

"Why wasn't Uncle Sev at the meeting last night?" Estella asked him suddenly, catching him by surprise.

"What?" He shook his head, not knowing where she was coming from. "How… how do you know he wasn't there?"

"He came by the house while me and the guys were watching videos." Estella said casually. "If I didn't know better, he was skiving the meeting because he wasn't happy about something."

"Maybe Dumbledore sent him on a errand and he was rather put out to find the house full of teenagers?" Sirius offered weakly.

"Oh, so it's not because he was pissed off about being made to test my magic then?" Estella hit the nail on the head and watched with a mix of satisfaction and sadness as her father physically stumbled back into a nearby wall. Without even giving him a chance to recover, she flipped a hand towards the door and suggested in a cool, emotionless tone that he ward the door.

Sirius' hands visibly shook as he pulled out his wand and stuttered a quiet assortment of impenetrable and locking charms on the door before falling heavily onto an ottoman and burying his head in his hands.

"How… how did you find out?" Sirius asked shakily, forgoing the pretences as he avoided her gaze. Even in his stupor he knew it would be foolish to try and deny that he knew about it now.

"Does it matter?" Estella sat on the arm of the chair in front of him and absently toyed with the wand in her hand. It wasn't that she wanted to hex her father or anything, but rather the feel of her wand in her hand tended to centre her emotions as much as the small slither of wood was intended to channel and focus her magic.

"How?" Sirius' voice squeaked in desperation and he looked at her pleadingly. "Please?"

"I figured it out." said Estella flippantly. "What, you think I wouldn't?"

"How?" her father repeated dumbly, his mind evidently reeling too much to make sense.

"Lucius Malfoy could not have sent a letter through the Hogwarts Floo." Estella said simply. "And Slytherins may be cunning, but even they would not be able to take the loose words of a Hufflepuff and draw such a accurate conclusion."

"What?" Sirius looked at her, a puzzled expression on his face. Clearly he had not been privy to the final details of her uncle's cover story.

"The cover story." Estella supplied. "I had my doubts."

"Oh." Sirius frowned, and then added without thinking; "but Severus can fool Voldemort! He can't have raised your suspicions."

"So?" Estella quirked a brow. "Voldemort is a certifiable idiot. I don't see the comparison. Besides, what's to say my uncle was really trying his hardest in his attempts to deceive me? He does make a point of not lying to me, which is more that I can say for other people in this family!"

Sirius had the good graces to look down, his cheeks reddened. "I can… I can explain."

"I'm sure you can." Estella said in a matter-of-fact tone. "But you needn't tell me. It was Dumbledore, wasn't it? He talked you into it, didn't he?"

"How?" Sirius stuttered at her again, and Estella had to fight the urge to roll her eyes at the circles their conversation was going in.

"Because I know you would never do it otherwise." Estella said confidently. "And from certain things I picked up from my uncle's demeanour, I knew straight away that he wasn't doing it for his own benefit. Nor do I think for a moment that he would have acted on your request alone. You, unlike Dumbledore, don't have that kind of power over him."

"But wouldn't that have made you believe that it was… that it was Malfoy making him?"

"At first, yes…" Estella admitted. She had, after all, bought her uncle's story until she'd overheard differently. Sure, certain things didn't quite sit well with her – such as how the letter could have been from Lucius and how her uncle couldn't concede to her suggestions to get out of doing it – but she had believed what she'd wanted to believe at the time.

"Then what happened?"

"Yesterday, when he showed up at the house, he wasn't just mad because he found the house full of teenagers without an adult around." Estella said… and it was true, for the more she thought of it, the more she realised that there was something more to her uncle's mood; and once she'd overheard what she had of the meeting, her first thought was that Severus was deliberately absent to avoid the fallout.

"It's true, he did skive the meeting." Sirius admitted. "I can't blame him… people were checking to make sure it wasn't a full moon when Remus found out. No one had ever seen him so mad… there's no telling what he would have done to Severus."

"So Moony didn't know then." Estella surmised trying to uphold the impression that she was still finding the finer details out. "Let me guess, all this was planned at the meeting over the full moon; how thoroughly convenient for Dumbledore."

"What… what do you mean?" Sirius looked at his daughter in surprise, because once again she had managed to zero in on his sentiment.

"Oh don't insult me." Estella rolled her eyes. "It's blatantly obvious that Dumbledore was waiting for when you would be prone to making a rash decision. Hell, I had tea with both he and McGonagall while I was at the school and he agreed wholeheartedly with McGonagall when she said that you lot – meaning you, James and Remus – thought and acted as one while you were at school, none of you seeming to function without first consulting the others. So, given that you are still new at this parenting thing and Remus has known me my whole life, Dumbledore would have to have the brain of a Flobberworm not to realise how much you depend on Remus. He could have scheduled the meeting for earlier in the day, or postponed it so Remus could be there, but he didn't; he did it deliberately."

"You think?" Relief flooded Sirius' voice… his own suspicions seeming all the more valid when echoed in the mind of his daughter.

"You mean you doubted it?" Estella gave him an incredulous look. "Dad, whatever he did to make you agree to it, he was playing you, you do realise that, don't you?"

"I suspected it." Sirius nodded. "Last night I challenged him about it… but I still don't know if I want to believe it. He has an answer for everything, that man does."

"Oh I'm sure." Estella sympathised, her tone too knowing. "But I hope you realise that he's interfering in something that really isn't his business! Dad, just because Harry is who he is, it doesn't make him a public commodity… I mean if Dumbledore has enough of a hold over you to make you go against what you know is right for me, then I hate to think of how he could influence you when it comes to Harry."

"I know, Estella." Sirius crumpled, his hands half reaching for her, but then relenting, as though he no longer had the right to seek comfort from the child he had let down. "I am so, so, sorry. I don't know what I was thinking… your mother would never forgive me."

"You trusted Dumbledore to guide you?" Estella acknowledged sadly, inching forward towards her father as he nodded, his face turned down from her. "I don't think I will ever understand how you could allow yourself to be taken advantage of like that, how you could doubt yourself so much to think you even need his help, but if it's any consolation, I don't blame you."

Upon hearing his daughter's words, and feeling the slight brush of her knees as she leant towards him, Sirius could hold back no more; his arms reaching out for her suddenly and pulling her into his lap. Embracing her like there was no tomorrow, he began to tremble with emotion.

"I don't deserve you." He sobbed into her shoulder, clawing at his awkward hold on her as though to lose his grip would mean to lose her forever. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He muttered the words over and over, as well as vowing never to listen to Dumbledore again on such matters.

"So you'll tell Harry then?" Estella said softly, wiping her own tears on her father's robe and tugging his head up so that he would look at her.

"Too right I bloody well will." Sirius said passionately, nearly throwing Estella from his lap as his body surged with intent. "No more secrets. I swear on your mother, I won't make the same mistake. Never again."

"Good." Estella smirked at him. "Because if you still refused, I'd be forced to show him Mum's diary myself." She smiled at his shocked look. "Not that it would have been breaking my promise, Dad!." She matched his raised brows with an arched set of her own. "I promised I wouldn't _tell_ Harry. There was nothing said against _showing_ him."

"That's it." Her father scowled, a familiar light returning to his eyes. "I am having serious words with that blasted Sorting Hat."

* * *

With one confrontation squared and put behind her, Estella moved onto her next target. Remus, to her understanding, had left early that morning on a supplies run and had yet to return. Her behaviour over the past few days already establishing a somewhat antisocial pattern, no one thought anything of it when she extricated herself from the main group of teenagers in favour of isolating herself in the formal reception room closest to the front door. It was a room that the younger occupants of the house had come to avoid on account that its occupants were habitually disrupted with the comings and goings of people through the front door, but that was precisely the reason Estella had gone there.

The late afternoon sun was sending amber rays of light through the shutters and the smells of that evening's meal were already wafting their way up the staircase from the kitchen. Though Estella had been waiting now for the better part of the afternoon, she'd yet to get past the opening chapters of her book; which was one in a series of seven she'd decided to reread over the summer break.

'_Where is he?_' Estella shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her tailbone having become sufficiently numbed.

Almost like clockwork, a telltale shadow passed by the drawn curtains, foretelling the presence of someone at the door. Sure enough, a muttered incantation could next be heard and the doorknob was coming to life. Straightening herself up in her chair, Estella assumed a mask of nonchalance and glanced up at the door casually. Though it could have been any number of people about to let themselves into the house – for indeed many 'false alarms' had presented themselves to Estella as she sat in eager anticipation – somehow she just _knew_ that this time it was her godfather.

"Hello, cub." Remus noticed her presence immediately, and Estella had to fight to pretend that she'd simply been reading her book and not waiting for him to return. "I didn't expect to find you here."

"Why not?" Estella quipped, "I'm stuck here for the rest of the summer, aren't I?"

"No, no," Remus shook his head lightly, and with one swift movement he deposited the carpet bag he'd been carrying on the floor where it proceeded to walk itself down to the kitchen to be unpacked; he in turn crossed the threshold into the room. "I mean here, in this room. You weren't by any chance waiting for your old godfather, were you?"

"What? Oh, I am just doing some reading," said Estella unconvincingly.

Quirking his lips at her knowingly, he flicked his wand at the ceiling, lighting the lanterns that hung there. "Is that better?" he asked, entering the room and shifting her legs slightly so that he could sit next to her. Placing her legs back down atop his lap, he fiddled with her toes. "It's all right, you know, if you've been waiting for me. I can understand how unusual it must be to be around so many other children during the holidays like this. It's certainly a difference from the quiet summers we've had in the past, right?"

Estella sighed. Somehow he always managed to anticipate things she didn't even realise she'd been thinking. "I was waiting for you," she admitted, clenching her toes as Remus began to feather his fingers over them, trying to solicit a laugh from her. "I just didn't want you to think…"

When it was clear she was not going to continue, Remus stilled his hand and looked at her worriedly. "Think what, cub?"

"I don't know." Estella scrunched her face up into a frustrated scowl. "Mrs. Weasley is always on my back about not being like all the others. I guess I was just worried that you might have something to say about it too."

"Well to let you in on a little secret," Remus leaned in towards her. "I am _not_ Molly Weasley."

Estella let out a breath she didn't realise she'd been holding and chuckled dryly. "Clearly not." she looked him up and down amusedly before allowing her insecurities to shroud her again. "But… so… you don't think there's something wrong with me?"

Frowning at this sudden turn, Remus turned his head so that he was facing his goddaughter fully. "What makes you think there was ever anything wrong with you?"

"I'm not like all the others." Estella shrugged. "I actually like being alone… and every time I've tried to get away for a while Mrs Weasley gives me these looks… like I've just spouted two heads… and she clucks her tongue. I swear it's a bloody compulsive twitch…"

Remus snorted at that and stilled her words with his hand. "Stop." He smiled at her gently. "There is _nothing_ wrong with you, you hear me? Molly Weasley wouldn't know her Wolfsbane from her Monkshood, so you shouldn't pay any attention to her."

"But she has so many children, surely she'd know what was normal." Estella bit her lip. Though this wasn't exactly what she'd planned on cornering her godfather about, the woman's constant fussing over her, urging her to go join the others had been on her mind all afternoon. Shortly after she'd finished her conversation with her father and skulked into the front room, Molly had come across her sitting by herself and, having not being able to convince her to join in whatever noisy game was echoing through the house from the upper levels, had promptly dragged Sirius into the kitchen for 'words'. Estella had watched the kitchen stairwell from her place behind her neglected book with barely hidden curiosity, her mind becoming increasingly agitated by the inability to use magic outside of school to amplify the muffled voices she could only just hear. When, soon enough, her father stormed out of the kitchen, the stomping of his feet indicative of his mood, Estella had felt the hairs of her neck stand up. Smirking at his daughter ever so lightly, the change in his demeanour as he'd seen her watching him anxiously was visible.

"Don't worry," he'd told her, his head jerking impatiently towards the stairwell. "She won't be bothering you again."

With that, her father had excused himself for purposes of 'spending some time with Harry' (meaning he was going to go tell Harry the prophecy), and Estella was left twice as confused as before. No doubt he'd been quite animated in telling the Weasley woman where she could stick her opinion. As time had proven so far, whatever her father had said was enough to stop the woman so much as looking at her as she passed by the room throughout the afternoon. But that said, it didn't stop Estella from wondering just who was _right_; and with her father busy with Harry and the teenagers knowing better than to overcrowd her when she hadn't sought them out herself, she found she had began to miss Mrs Weasley's bothersome overtures.

"Estella, have you even been listening?" an exasperated sigh drew Estella's attention back to the present. "Molly Weasley may have a lot of children, but she doesn't know you. She has no experience raising just one child, and hence has no idea on how a child raised without a million siblings to squabble and share with is likely to act."

"I suppose you're right." Estella sighed in relief, the tension slowly easing from her joints. "I'm glad you're back… waiting for you all afternoon was clearly messing with my head."

"Aw, did you miss me _that_ much?" Remus drawled, his candour belying his deeper sentiment. That his goddaughter could be so affected by his absence made leaving her all the more harder; however he had no choice but to do it. Yet that she even missed him at all now she had a father and a boy who was practically her brother was all the more heartening. Though he was loath to admit it, his biggest fear was having the one person who meant most to him in the entire world, forget about him.

"Don't flatter yourself." Estella sneered at him in a similar tone, neither truly wanting to dissect the intricacies of the situation. After a comfortable pause, she shook her head. "I don't know what's wrong with me lately… caring so much 'bout what people think."

"I'd call it growing up." Remus smiled at her. "That and you're whole world has been turned upside down lately – you're entitled to stumble as you find your feet."

"Oh really?" Estella smirked back at him. "I would have said that I have been spending entirely too much time around Gryffindors. It's clearly addled my perspective."

Laughing heartily, Remus pinned her ankles down with one hand and tickled her feet mercilessly with the other.

"Stop! Remus, stop!" Estella couldn't hold her laughter in anymore as her godfather's deft fingers sought out all the sensitive points on her feet.

"Not until you admit that Gryffindors are the best!" Remus growled at her. "Say it!"

"They are the best!" Estella managed to gasp out, and Remus relinquished his hold slightly. The expectant arch of his brow highlighted that he was still waiting for the full admission. "…the best… _Ravenclaws_ are the best."

"That's better." Remus let go of her feet entirely before doing a double take. "Wait a minute!"

"Oh no, please no more!" Estella tucked her feet under her knees as she sat cross-legged. "Tell me what you did today."

"Oh, just the usual, boring, bothersome stuff." Remus waved it off dismissively. "Though I must say that I think you would be much more interested to hear about the rather revealing conversation I had with Albus this morning after breakfast."

Estella straightened up in her seat and gaped wide-eyed at her godfather.

"I take it, from that look, that you know what I am talking about, mmm?" Remus reached into the pocket of his Muggle jacket. "I must admit I was quite surprised - well more like _shocked_, really - to learn of what you did while visiting with your uncle."

Estella froze. Surely Remus would not think to broach the subject of her testing so casually; let alone be grinning at her proudly as he did it. But as much as she racked her mind to try and pinpoint what else he could be referring to in such a hoodwinked manner, she came up blank.

"I would never have believed it unless I had seen it for myself." Remus continued, pulling his hand out to reveal a small, flat square object. "I find I must confess that I have wrongly underestimated you. I apologise."

A sarcastic comment about the insincerity of her godfather's 'apology' died on her lips when she caught sight of the photo frame in the man's hand. "That meddlesome old coot!" she scowled. "He promised not to tell!"

"Ah, but he didn't tell me anything, my dear," Remus winked at her, effortlessly slipping into the headmaster's trademark mannerisms. "He simply _showed_ me."

Ever so suddenly, Estella was given a whole new insight into how her father must have felt earlier that afternoon when she'd exploited the same technicality with him in regards to her own promise. "It's not what you think." she said defensively, inwardly marvelling at how the conversation had steered itself back to where she'd wanted it to go without having even tried. Confronting the werewolf about the memory he took away from her would be so much easier now he had brought up the subject of her flying himself. "I was experimenting."

Oh," Remus looked almost disappointed. "So you don't harbour a secret passion for flying that you'd simply not told us about."

"No." Estella shook her head. "I most certainly won't be trying out for the Quidditch team any time soon." She snorted. "So _that_'s what Dumbledore was doing with his wand then! There I was thinking he was trying to slow me down or something!"

"Slow you down?" Remus peered at the photograph more closely, examining the animated loop from all available angles before putting it down in defeat. "Just how fast were you going?"

"Um, how fast does the Firebolt go?" she asked innocently, smirking when she saw her godfather's brows rise above his hairline, his features lighting up in barely contained surprise as he surveyed the picture again. It seemed almost a shame to confront him about past matters now.

"That fast, eh?" Remus' eyes didn't leave the photograph, and Estella couldn't help but wonder what stolen memory he was reliving in his mind. "And, er, how high?"

"Higher than I ever _remember_ going before." said Estella, careful to place specific emphasis on the word 'remember'. Just as expected, her godfather twitched ever so slightly.

Time to go in for the kill.

"You know, I have a very interesting Charms assignment for my homework." she said conversationally.

"Really?" Remus' face lit up in genuine interest, and Estella could tell he was racking his brains to try and recall what he'd had to do for homework when he was in her same year. "So what's it about, then?"

"Various forms of the Priori Incantatem charm." Estella said softly, her brow furrowing. "There's a practical component too. We have to observe the effects of the spell."

"Oh?" Remus' voice was hitched and somewhat strained.

"Yeah, but I didn't think Flitwick would appreciate my eye witness account of what happened when Voldemort and Harry duelled." Estella said flippantly. "Though it was mighty good to see Lily again…" she shook her head to clear the heavy thoughts that were threatening to cloud her mind.

"You couldn't request to be excused from the assignment?" Remus looked at her worriedly, inwardly making a note to have a talk to someone about the tactless choices in the school syllabus.

"Why would I want to?" Estella frowned. "Besides, I already did the practical stuff while I was visiting with Uncle Sev. We were supposed to get an adult to do it because we can't use magic outside of school and such, but I am hoping I will get extra points for doing it myself."

"But, how can you extract all the past spells from your wand?" Remus narrowed his eyes at her. "Did you use your mother's wand?"

"No, no, no." Estella shook her head. "I didn't Priori Incantatem my _wand_, silly. I didn't choose that form of the charm… I chose to test what spells had been cast on _me_." She looked at her godfather levelly as he stared at her in shocked silence. "Who'd have thought there'd be so many…" she said, shrugging. "Though it makes sense since you and Uncle Sev had been teaching me to duel and stuff since I was small." She took a deep breath just as she saw the features on her godfather's face begin to relax. "Don't ever recall an _Obliviate_ being in there though… but then again I suppose that was the point, wasn't it, Remus?"

"How did you know it was me?" Remus muttered weakly after a lengthy silence. Much like Sirius, he was reluctant to lie.

"You never could keep a good poker face, Moony; at least from me." Estella sighed. "Care to tell me what it was all about? I am sure you will feel better for it."

"I… I…" Remus averted his eyes, ashamed. "It's not something I particularly care to remember."

"Well it can't be as bad as my moonlit explorations of a certain _inhabited_ Shrieking Shack." Estella said nonchalantly, rolling her eyes at her godfather's stricken look. "Relax, I only mentioned it to remind you how I have never held that against you."

"Yet." Remus whispered, his insecurities sinking in as his fingers began to trace around the carvings on the photo frame on his lap.

"_Never_." Estella chided him. "Now come on, it can't possibly be _that_ bad."

Remus closed his eyes, his face twisted in the throes of a haunting memory. "Don't judge what you do not know, Estella." He said evenly, his eyes returning to scrutinise his hands as soon as he'd reopened them.

"Can I hazard a guess then?" Estella went on when she detected her godfather's subtle nod. "That it has something to do with flying?"

Guilty eyes flew to hers unguardedly, wide with surprise.

"Don't even try to deny it now," Estella leant forward and grabbed her godfather's chin so he could not look away again. "I was wondering why the meddling old coot would see to giving _you_ a picture of me on a broom and not anyone else."

"Meddling old coot?" Remus emerged from his inward battle of self-recriminations to look at her questioningly.

"Oh just one of the many names Dumbledore's mother couldn't fit on his birth certificate." Estella waved it off dismissively, her face lighting up in a smile when she saw her godfather's lips twitch in appreciation. "But yes, it is a tad curious that he makes a point of giving you this photo and, as you said, revolving a whole private conversation with you about it."

"Whole private conversation?" Remus mirrored back dumbly.

"Well if I remember correctly you actually said 'revealing', but that's beside the point." Estella nodded towards the photograph. "I know it had to be a private conversation though because had anyone else heard, Dad would have been on my back about it all day and you wouldn't have the photo."

"Oh?"

"Yes… and I figured that there has to be something else to it if Dumbledore felt to give you a photo as proof of what I'd done." Estella looked at him knowingly, pleased with herself about how she was able to extract this information from him without either lying nor alluding to the fact she overheard her father mention it. "So I tender my guess that whatever memory you took from me had to do with flying."

"You make it sound like I stole something from you." Remus said coarsely. "When in fact you should never have had that experience to begin with…"

"What, if you had been paying proper attention?" Estella slid the pieces together in her mind – a strange sensation when she still, really, had little idea what she was supposed to be looking at. "By your definition then, was I destined to have a little slumber party with Moony?"

"Slumber party?" Remus spluttered, growling at her softly in a mix of confusion and frustration. "You don't understand, Estella… I had to do it. I didn't want to lose you! I didn't want you to be afraid…"

"Remus." Estella patted his knee with her hand and took his shaking hands into her own. "Perhaps you ought to start from the beginning, hmm?"

"I still don't understand how you figured it out." Remus furrowed his brow, logical thought now coming to him since he had alleviated himself of the weight he had borne all those years. "But then again, I never thought I'd get to see you on a broom of your own volition ever again."

Taking the photograph from her godfather's lax hands, Estella studied her profile, slowly coming to terms with the fact that it was actually her being so… so… adventurous. Part of her felt bad for omitting the fact she'd overheard her father mention her missing memory, but she pushed it to the back of her mind. It was irrelevant now.

"If it's any consolation, I don't completely understand what compelled you to do it in the first place." Estella confided, stretching her legs out again and resting them back on her godfather's legs, trapping him. "OK so Uncle Sev would have done a bang up impersonation of Mrs Weasley being all over-protective and irrational, but a week of putting up with me pining for you and he would have let you come back!"

"And what if he simply Obliviated any memory of you ever knowing me?" Remus exhaled sharply, his deepest, most innermost fear coming to light.

Estella's eyes widened in shock and she looked at her godfather as though seeing him for the first time. "You… you really thought he'd do something like that?" she gaped, but could only grimace as reality set in. "Guess I can't blame you, there." She frowned at the look of resignation on her godfather's face. "You know there's not a snowball's chance in hell of it happening now, right?" She nudged him with her foot. "Not only would a Obliviation of that magnitude earn me a bed next to Lockhart, but there is also quite a few people who would never stand for it."

"I know." Remus whispered reverently, squeezing her ankle as though to affirm to himself that she was real. "You're not mad, then?"

"I'm a little disappointed, to be honest." Estella said sincerely, her keen eyes noticing Remus' body slump a little. "But I think I understand now why you did it."

"Thank Merlin you take after your mother in that regard." Remus looked upon her adoringly, and Estella could tell he meant neither joke nor malice in his words.

"Yes, well, now we have that established, do you think you could give me the memory back now?"

"What?" Remus spluttered, his hands instinctively grabbing her ankles as though she would literally take to flight right before his very eyes. "But you're only just overcoming the fear… I don't want to put it back in you by making you relive it!"

"Well look at it this way, Moony…" Estella sat up a little straighter. "I already have this fear, so what's the worst it could do, hmm? If anything, having the memory back could remind me of what drove me to fly that day… I imagine I would have been rather fearless and unflappable."

"Indeed you were," Remus said fondly. "You loved watching the Quidditch games and you were always begging me to take you up." He paused and looked down guiltily. "I never did though. I couldn't trust myself enough not to drop you. Perhaps if I had, you wouldn't have tried doing it by yourself… I'm sorry."

"Could've, would've, should've…" Estella scoffed, shaking her head. "It's no use beating yourself up over it. There's a lot of things that could have happened differently if certain things had been different. Might I have been on the Quidditch team if I had never gotten on that broom? Maybe. Would I have ever gotten to know my uncle had my father never been sent to prison? I doubt it. Could I have had a different life if my mother hadn't died giving birth? Most assuredly." She sighed, shaking her head sadly at the forlorn look on her godfather's face. "My point is, Moony," she said, taking his chin between her thumb and forefinger and angling his face towards her. "Is that there are some things we might never know and it's no use letting the 'what ifs' eat away at us. What's done is done… we live and move on."

"But I can't help but think I've taken something away from you needlessly." Remus pouted, finding the right words difficult to come by. "You had potential…"

"Stop." Estella placed a gentle hand on her godfather's muttering lips. "Don't do this to yourself! It's not worth it!"

"But-"

"No buts!" Estella chastised him lightly. "Do I look deprived of anything to you? Do I look _unhappy_? We don't know any differently than the life we've been given, so I don't know why you're making all the fuss."

"I took something from you!" Remus was indignant in his need for self-reprimand. "To protect my own interests!"

"I'm not going to sway you, am I?" Remus shook his head in response. "Very well then… set it right."

"Huh?"

"Give it back." Estella said simply, gesturing towards her godfather's wand. He stared at her blankly, a refusal quick on his tongue, but she stared it down. "I _insist_."

END CHAPTER

Next Chapter due: Monday 17th October - I know it's a bit of a stretch, but it's the day two of my last assessment pieces are due and I _really_ have to concentrate on getting them done in the meantime.On the flipside, afterthe 21st, I'll have been finished with uni forever (devastating - note sarcasm) and, well, in absence of finding suitable employment I see myself with a bit of spare time... no computer, but spare time (go figure).


	6. Stir Crazy

**Disclaimer: Nope, still not mine. Please refer all enquiries to the richest woman in Britain :P **

**Updated: Tuesday 18th September, 2005 (Sorry, a day late, I know, I know… of all the nights for my flatmate to come home early and hog the phone…)**

**Beta'd by: 3-legged dog**

**Chapter 06: Stir Crazy**

"Wotcher, baby cousin." Tonks swept into the kitchen and addressed her breezily, as only she could. "How's life in the madhouse… my goodness, you look exhausted!"

Nearly two weeks had passed since Harry's birthday. Ever since he'd returned the memory, Remus had been stealing strange looks at her whenever anyone else in the room started talking about flying (which, with four Quidditch mad teenagers in the house was quite often). Estella could not escape the unbidden hope in his eyes, and so she lay awake at night for hours on end, desperately trying to reconcile the warring emotions in her mind. Unfortunately, while the spell returned her youthful fascination with flying, the memory did not undo all the years she'd come to fear flying because of the botched charm.

Harry too, Estella noted, had slightly bigger issues keeping him awake at night. Because Harry had not been suitably trained in Occlumency, Sirius had only told him the basic idea of the Prophecy – that he had been marked as Voldemort's equal and had been targeted as a baby because he was the only one who could defeat him. Naturally, the young Gryffindor had not adjusted to the news straight away; and had taken to wallowing in self-pity and guilt, feeling responsible for his parents' – and most recently, Cedric's deaths.

Surprisingly, it was Harry himself, who insisted that Hermione and his Weasley housemates remain uninformed of the latest development. He didn't want them staring and acting weird around him, let alone being thrust into unnecessary danger by knowing. Sensing something big was being kept from them, however, his friends took varying degrees of offence. While Ginny and the twins readily accepted that they were not close enough to be told, Ron was up in a lather and Hermione's veiled acceptance and bookish logic was tainted by a renewed sense of jealousy and derision towards Estella, who knew something she did not.

The tension cast a divide amongst the group. Ron would silently fume about Harry in one corner, joined by Hermione's identical indignation towards Estella, while the others – the twins and Ginny – remained on the fence. As a result, Harry and Estella spent a lot of time together, going through Selina's diary and cornering the surviving Marauders for stories about their parents. While thinking of his parents had initially made Harry feel even more guilty about their deaths, Estella was right in that learning more about them would eventually affirm to him that James and Lily had lived for their son and had only done what any loving parent would do for their child.

After years of being made to feel worthless and unappreciated by his Muggle aunt and uncle, the concept of being the centre of someone's universe endeared Harry. Slowly but surely, he began to accept their deaths as what they were; the deflated self-loathing in his eyes was replaced by a fierce determination to ensure his parents deaths hadn't been in vain.

Sirius, who, until this point, had been beside himself questioning whether or not telling Harry had been a good idea after all, was proud as punch at Harry's turn around. Even the smothering Mrs Weasley could sense the shift in Harry and was no longer able to chastise Sirius for making the wrong decision. One by one the adults slowly came around to Sirius' 'tell-all' method of parenting, and he steadily began to receive the respect he deserved when it came to making decisions about either of his charges.

Unfortunately, things amongst the teenagers had yet to improve. In fact, they were only getting worse. Ron, in particular, had become so persistent in trying to corner Harry for answers at every opportunity, that the girls had moved out of Sirius' room and back into Estella's so that Harry could have his own space away from the unrelenting redhead. After a few days of this, however, things between Hermione and Estella had become so equally tense, that the girls swapped with Harry, leaving Estella to share her room with her father's godson.

"A sickle for your thoughts?" Tonks looked at her cousin knowingly as she flopped down on the couch opposite Estella.

"Oh, I was just thinking about how Dad actually stuck Harry and me in the same room." Estella said wistfully, sticking her finger between the pages of her Transfiguration text so that she wouldn't lose where she was at as she looked up at her cousin. "Anyone would think he'd just send Hermione home, or move us back to our place. I guess things out there really aren't that safe, huh?"

Choosing to ignore the heavier implications of her comment, Tonks took the lighter road. "Ya know, I'd be careful about what I got up to in there." She said, her eyes glinting mischievously as they shifted from midnight blue to emerald green and back again. "Sirius has probably charmed the beds to hex you if things got too cosy."

"What… _Tonks_!" Estella spluttered, her face flushing red. "I wasn't saying that there was any chance of anything like… like _that_ happening! I was merely commenting on it because, as far as I know, it's rather unusual to have a boy and girl share a room."

"Well I'm pretty sure my Mum and Dad shared a room at some point…" Tonks winked, screwing up her nose as it morphed back and forth between a cute button nose and cat's whiskers. "I doubt I'd be here if they didn't."

"_Nymphadora_!" Estella shrieked indignantly. "Get your mind out of the sewer! I _meant_ boys and girls as in brother and sister! And would you _stop_ morphing! You're making me dizzy!"

"But you and Harry _aren't_ brother and sister, now are you?" Tonk's tapped her nose and winked again.

Estella scowled. "This isn't going anywhere!" she threw her hands up in the air as she shook her head. Ignoring the annoying little voice in her head that reminded her that Harry was, indeed, not related to her, she scowled at the girl before her who was. "What are you doing here anyway?"

"Relax, baby cousin, I'm just stirring your cauldron." Tonks grinned victoriously. "Something must really have you cooking since you're such an easy target today! Really though, ya Dad letting you share with Harry just shows that he trusts you both…" her look turned thoughtful. "Well, either that, or he's trying really hard to set you two up."

"More like things are going stir crazy in this house and he couldn't think of anything else to do!" Estella crossed her arms across her chest and schooled her features into one of indifference. There just was no getting any sense out of people when it came to her and Harry.

Tonks shuddered. "Has anyone told you how much you resemble your uncle when you do that?" she said incredulously. "Even though you've got Sirius' eyes you still got the Snape glare."

"Thanks." Estella drawled, smirking slightly. "Pity I haven't shown any signs of being a Metamorphagus… could really go to town then. You still haven't told me what you're doing here."

"Does a girl need an excuse to visit her baby cousin?" Tonks pouted, and Estella rolled her eyes. Smiling restrainedly, Tonks turned serious. "Thought you might do with some company while all the others are out."

"Thanks." said Estella genuinely, a small smile on her lips. The date was the 12th of August, and Harry, with his friends, had left with Arthur Weasley for the ministry early in the morning. In the two weeks Dumbledore had _insisted_ Harry stay with his Muggle relatives, he and his Muggle cousin had been confronted by Dementors, giving Harry no choice but to use magic outside of school. Still under Dumbledore's thumb at that time, Sirius had conceded and agreed to keep Harry with his family until the two weeks were up – the Muggle family's ongoing safety was apparently dependent on it. In hindsight, it had become yet another thing to chalk up on Dumbledore's list of stupid things that had happened because Sirius had trusted his judgement.

Between getting him settled into his new home, his birthday party and then the prophecy, neither Harry, nor anyone else, had really given the hearing much thought. All were quietly confident that the ministry would not expel the boy-who-lived from Hogwarts and looked upon the hearing as a mere formality. Because Estella had wanted to give Harry something he could share with his friends alone – for she knew firsthand how difficult it was to hold onto a friendship with so many secrets – Estella chose to stay behind and work on her Transfiguration homework.

Sirius, too, had stayed behind. The official reason for this was because he didn't know if he'd be able to stop himself from retaliating if either the verdict was bad or he saw someone like Lucius Malfoy around. Between Harry, Estella and Remus, however, Sirius stayed away because he was still not entirely happy with Dumbledore. He neither cared to be reminded of what Dumbledore's trusted advice had almost cost them, nor did he want to bear witness to Dumbledore imposing his meddling influence over the Ministry officials. As leader of the fight against Voldemort, Dumbledore commanded respect and trust, and as such, Sirius didn't want his current feelings towards the man to become permanent. He needed time to cool off.

"You worried about the hearing, baby cousin?" Tonks persisted with her own brand of endearment and Estella could not help but roll her eyes.

"Not really." she shrugged in response, returning her gaze to the Transfiguration text she'd found amongst her grandparent's extensive collection. "Dumbledore seldom goes without what he wants, and the press would have a field day if they deprived the 'Boy-Who-Lived' of an education." She paused, tearing her eyes away from her text once again to look her cousin in the eye. "I'm more worried about Harry being at the Ministry, period. With Fudge refusing to admit that the Snark Lord is back, that place just has a big target painted all over it."

"_Snark_ Lord?" Tonks raised a brow, stifling a giggle at the flippant way Estella threw it out.

"Harry came up with it." Estella grinned indulgently. "We were getting sick of the others quivering at the name 'Voldemort' and calling him 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named'."

"It takes a lot of guts to call him by his name, you have to admit." Tonks herself had flinched slightly at the reference. "Especially if you've been raised to fear it," she smiled apologetically at Estella's withering look. "But hey, between you and me, I think Mr. _Snark_ would want to look at re-evaluating the decision to make people afraid of his name… especially since all the Muggleborns aren't going to be able to stop conjuring images of Prince in their minds."

"Prince?" Estella raised a brow. "You mean, that lame Muggle musician you used to have an infatuation with? Didn't he turn his name into a symbol?"

"I did not have an infatuation with Prince!" Tonks glared, rueing the day she'd ever started a fleeting correspondence with her youngest relative. Since then, Severus had not been able to deny his niece contact with her father's relatives. "He had one good album… everyone liked him back then."

"Yes, and now no one knows what to call him." Estella snickered. "I should start encouraging people to call old Voldie 'The Snark Lord Formerly Known As _Tom_.'" Her grin widened. "Yes! That will do nicely… the Muggleborns will lap it up." She paused. "Well, all the ones old and crusty enough to get the whole Prince reference. What kind of idiot changes his name to a symbol that most Muggle typesets can't reproduce, anyway?"

"He's not _that_ out of vogue!" Tonks protested. "Just you wait. End of 1998 he'll re-issue 1999 and then everyone will know his name again."

"No they won't." Estella said stubbornly, her tone deadly serious. "He doesn't have a name anymore for people _to_ know, remember?"

Tonks blinked at her in confusion before breaking out into honest-to-goodness laughter, Estella not too far behind her.

"Why, hello there, _Nymphadora_." Sirius teased lightly, the girls' laughter drawing him out from the rock he'd been brooding under. "Thought for a moment that Moody had come in and transfigured some poor unfortunate soul into a hyena to help Estella with her homework, but I guess I was mistaken."

"Oh, well, you can talk! Have you listened to yourself laugh lately? If anyone actually _knew_ you were an Animagus, they'd think you'd failed to change back, the way you bark." Tonks threw a cushion at him as she growled. "And how many times do I have to tell you _not _to call me that…"

"Well," Sirius caught the cushion deftly in his hands and flashed his daughter a cheeky look. "What am I supposed to call you when you've gone and passed on the title of 'baby cousin' to someone else?"

Tonks and Estella looked at Sirius' pouting face, surprise written all over their faces.

"Oh, that's right…" Tonks screwed up her face in concentration, as though she was trying to remember something from a long time ago. "You used to call me that, didn't you?"

"I believe so." Sirius shrugged and kicked off from the doorframe he was leaning against to cross the room and perch himself on the arm of the armchair his daughter was curled up in. "Though I must say it was really rather appropriate at the time – you couldn't have been anymore than five or six."

"I was nearly eight!" Tonks crossed her arms defiantly and scowled at her mother's cousin. "But my mother told me you only called me that so that she would stop calling _you_ her 'baby cousin'."

"Well it was rather inappropriate." Sirius said diplomatically, shooting a playful glare in his daughter's direction when she started giggling. "Regulus was, after all, younger than me."

"Yes, but she never really had much to do with him, now did she?" Tonks threw back.

"With good reason." Sirius agreed slowly, the steam running out of their conversation. Due to Andromeda's marriage to Tonks' Muggle father Ted, he'd had very little to do with his favourite cousin and her family while he was growing up. It was not until he escaped from his mother's clutches and moved in with James that Andromeda had been able to invite him over to get acquainted with the other 'Black sheep' of the family. Turning to the youngest member of his family, Sirius smiled at his daughter, ignoring the nagging feeling of injustice that Ted and Andromeda had largely been kept out of his child's life. "You don't mind being the baby of the family, though do you, missy? There's not a lot you can do about it if you do."

"Well when you put it that way, how am I even supposed to answer?" Estella rolled her eyes and returned her attentions to the Transfiguration text in her lap, inwardly heartened by the quirky little traditions members of her strange unorthodox family had. Like her father, she too had felt the pang of loss that came with things her family had been denied over the years.

Any further discussion, however, was abruptly cut off by Harry's return. Scrambling to their feet, father and daughter rushed towards the honorary member of their family, Tonks a leisurely pace behind them.

"Wotcher, Harry." All three of them said simultaneously, the two most closely related participants sporting matching lopsided grins as they successfully anticipated the greeting of their wayward cousin.

"How'd it go, Harry?" Sirius stepped closer and rested a hand on his godson's shoulder, smiling slightly when he saw the humour in the boy's eyes.

The answer to Sirius' question, meanwhile, came not from Harry, but from the twins who were looking a little giddy from excitement.

"He got off! He got off!" They chanted, dancing a crazy little jig that left everyone smiling.

"Well of _course_ he did!" Sirius drawled sarcastically, though relief was evident in his pale eyes. As much as everyone knew Harry's acquittal was a sure thing, Sirius, of all people, had the most reason to suspect the Ministry of being completely inept at reaching a sound judgement.

'_At least he got a hearing_' Father and daughter locked eyes, both thinking the same thing. Sirius' incarceration, after all, had come without so much as a trial.

"All they need to do now is, pull their finger out and realise Voldemort's back in the game and they could be almost competent." Estella voiced her father's thoughts, rolling her eyes when a collective shudder passed through the party of redheads. "Oh, come on guys, _honestly_!"

"Sirius, may I have a word?" Arthur gestured quietly towards Sirius, motioning him away from where the teenagers were crowding around Harry, chatting excitedly amongst themselves. For all intensive purposes, a temporary amnesty between them had been drawn as they shared in Harry's victory; all secrets forgotten.

"What's that about, I wonder?" Estella followed her father's movements as he conversed with Arthur Weasley quietly. Arthur had escorted Harry to the hearing on the way to his job at the Ministry, taking his own children and Hermione with him, to show them his office as they waited.

Ron and the twins stopped in their animated re-telling of how Hermione had spent the entire time in their father's office properly identifying all the Muggle artefacts and paled as they followed Estella's gaze.

"Oh, that." Ron said lowly, looking at Harry apologetically, who had stiffened at the memory. The longer he hesitated, the more Estella got a taste of what it was like to be left out of a secret. All three redheads exchanged nervous looks, while the normally stoic Hermione refused to meet her questioning gaze.

"Harry?" Estella's breath hitched as she looked from the grim expression on the boys face, to the darkening looks on her father's face in the distance. "Who was at the Ministry?"

"Malfoy. _Lucius_ Malfoy." Harry said quietly.

Estella's eyes went impossibly wide and she swallowed hard, unable to find any words. Behind Harry, on the far side of the hallway, she noted absently that her father was looking at the pair of them worriedly, concern haunting his once-handsome features.

"Dad reckons he was trying to sneak into the hearing." Fred said lowly.

"Fudge's office is nowhere near the courtroom. He had no place being where he was." George mirrored his brother's tone perfectly. "Mighty glad we were waiting for Harry in Dad's office, but Merlin, could you imagine running into him in a deserted hallway?"

"The Ministry would be holding more 'disciplinary hearings' before the summer was out, that's what would have happened." Fred said ruefully, his fingers twitching towards the pocket that carried his wand.

"The audacity!" Hermione said quietly, shaking her head. "Walking around freely as though he owned the place not two months since… since…"

"I wish Dad had banished his robes, though." Ginny said, scowling at the boys slightly when they took her words the wrong way. "Malfoy would have had a hard time explaining his choice of body art."

Sighing in relief, the boys all agreed.

"Wouldn't work." Harry said softly, still a little overwhelmed by the events of the day. "He came out as a Death Eater after the first war ended; convinced everyone he had been under the Imperius Curse and had been forced to take the Dark Mark."

"If he was truly on our side, then why is he still alive then?" Estella frowned. "If Tom can cause the Dark Mark to burn when he's summoning his minions, surely he can inflict serious damage to those who have defied him and fled the ranks."

Estella met Hermione's eyes, and for a fleeting moment saw a flicker of understanding and sympathy in them. The bushy-haired girl was the quickest to realise what such a power would mean for Estella's uncle.

"It wouldn't make sense for him to go after any defected Death Eaters." Harry said, looking directly at Estella as though to reassure her. "The Ministry might actually start to think he was back, if stuff like that started to happen."

"They should take your word for it and believe that anyway." Estella stated grimly. "Bunch of incompetent dunderheads."

Snickers broke out amongst the teenagers as they drew the comparison between uncle and niece. Smiling invitingly at the humour, Estella could almost hear the ice break.

Maybe things would work out between them all, after all. Across from her, Sirius smiled at his daughter knowingly, inwardly thankful that the once fractured group of teenagers were beginning to show signs of reconciliation. With the Dark Lord on the loose, a foolish Minister under the thumb of one Lucius Malfoy and that damn prophecy that started it all hovering overhead, it made no sense for allies to remain divided.

Fresh from their encounter with the shameless, two-faced Death Eater, Harry's closest friends were beginning to come to the same conclusion.

* * *

That night, to celebrate, Sirius and Remus had herded the teenagers to the family home to watch videos. The Weasley twins, in particular, had become particularly enamoured with the world of action movies, and poor Arthur had looked like a dog denied a bone when, after escorting his children to the half-Muggle house, he realised he couldn't stay and explore all the _working_ Muggle amenities without being a burden on his rambunctious teens.

Besides, he'd already agreed to make a sweep of Grimmauld Place, flushing out the doxy nests while most of the house's occupants weren't there to scare them into hiding. The house may belong to Sirius, Arthur knew, but his entire family had been living there for over a month; so whatever he could do around the house in return was the least he could do.

"That Arnie dude, he speaks funny." Fred shook his head at the screen. "Where's he from, you think?"

"He's not from anywhere, you idiot!" George chastised his brother, sounding a little too much like Percy, much to everyone's amusement. "He's a machine… right?"

"Living tissue over metal alloy endo-skeleton." Ron attempted to mimic the action star's distinctive drawl.

"If only they paid as much attention to detail in class." Hermione exchanged a look with Estella, who rolled her eyes at the naivety that existed between the magical and the Muggle.

"Hate to break it to you, but it's all just make up." Estella informed the boys, and not for the first time.

"Make up?" Ron whined, his brothers' following; all their faces screwing up in disgust.

"Grown men in _make-up_!" George shook his head. "Clearly a Muggle thing."

"Is the blood all make up too?" Fred asked, looking at it from a slightly different perspective. Estella nodded. "Wicked."

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking, Gred?" George caught up with his brother's train of thought as their eyes met, twin sets glinting with untapped potential.

"If it's what I'm thinking then I am, Forge." Fred agreed, before the pair sidled off to plan a range of gags that made ghastly looking fake gashes appear on one's skin.

"Mum's gonna flip when they come out with that." Ginny frowned. "But just you watch, they'll come in with a real injury and Mum'll ignore it and it'll serve them right for having her on."

A little behind them, Sirius and Remus watched the teenagers interact.

"Those two are going to give us a run for our money." Remus noted dryly, nodding towards the scheming twins in the corner.

"Is it true they stole the map from Filch's office?" Sirius mused. "Really should thank them for that one day."

"But not now?"

"What, and tell them who we are?" Sirius looked levelly at his friend. "It's much more fun having them speak freely about the Marauders, not knowing that they're actually talking to two of them, isn't it?"

"You just like to be hero-worshipped, _Mr Padfoot_." Remus shook his head at his friend in amusement.

"And you just like to be quietly smug and all-knowing about something, _Mr Moony_." Sirius countered, hitting the nail square on the head.

"You keep talking like that and they'll hear you anyway." Estella turned her attention away from the movie and rolled off the beanbag. Shuffling over to them on her knees, she leant her chin against the arm of the couch. "And I, for one, am having far too much fun to have them know just yet."

"Well, there's no mistaking whose daughter you are." Sirius said proudly, ruffling the hair on her head with one hand, while patting the couch next to him with the other. "Now, c'mere. Sit with us."

As Estella made her way around the couch and went to take the seat between her father and godfather, however, Sirius reached out and hauled her onto his lap instead.

"Dad!" Estella protested, caught by surprise. "What are you doing?"

"Stealing a cuddle from my number one girl." Sirius said glibly, wrapping his arms around her tightly. "I don't get to do it near enough."

"I'm too big now for that!" Estella pouted, though she made no effort to extricate herself from her father's lap. "I don't see Arthur Weasley going around being all huggy!"

"Nonsense! You're still light as a feather." Sirius noted. "There's nothing wrong with me wanting to make up for lost time, is there?"

"No," said Estella demurely. "But must you do it in front of everyone?"

"I don't see anyone watching." Sirius whispered, inwardly ecstatic that, despite her protests, Estella had made no attempt to move away. "Now make yourself comfortable and tell me what you want to do for the rest of summer."

"You mean I have a choice?" Estella stared at her father incredulously, ignoring her godfather's oomph as she surreptitiously stretched out her legs across his lap. "Who do you think you are, Father Christmas?"

"Father what?" Sirius frowned. "Christmas? Don't get so far ahead of yourself, missy. Let's just concentrate on the next two weeks, hmm?"

Remus and Estella exchanged a look, fighting to suppress their mirth at Sirius' naivety. Deciding to put his puzzled friend out of his misery, Remus closed the gap between them and whispered an abridged explanation about the Muggle tradition into his friend's ear.

"Don't you be calling me clueless, Remus Lupin." Sirius reeled back and scowled at the barely suppressed grin on his friend's face. "I'm not the _clueless_ prat who believed that you could teach Mandrakes to talk!"

"Yes, well, I hadn't figured out James' poker face yet." Remus muttered, blushing slightly. "And it was just after the full moon, so I dare say you had me at an advantage. At least I'm not the one who took off his ear muffs and spent the day unconscious in the infirmary."

"Pity the Mandrake wasn't more mature." Sirius' eyes darkened. "Would have served Peter right for being so gullible."

Not liking where this particular memory was headed, Estella cut in. "Wait… are you telling me, Remus, that you _fell_ for that? Not even _I_ fell for that!"

"You tried the same joke on my daughter and it didn't work?" Sirius chuckled. "How old was she then?"

"Four." Estella grinned victoriously. "No wonder you thought you'd catch me out, Moony, if Dad n' James had fooled you at 12."

"13." Sirius corrected, glad that no one else in the room had heard Estella call Remus by his Marauder name. "Mandrakes were on the third year curriculum back then, not second year."

"Good heavens!" Estella marvelled at the pair. "It's any wonder you lot lived to see graduation."

"We had help." Sirius said quietly, his eyes full of meaning as they locked with Estella's own.

"Yes, I suppose you did." Estella said flatly, her mind lost to the memory of that day in the alleyway.

"Hey, none of that now." Remus squeezed her ankle and started to play with her laces. "Think of something you want to do for the rest of summer."

Just at that moment, the teens on the floor broke out into cheers as the T1000 was destroyed in the molten steel, and everyone's attention was returned to the action on the screen.

"I need a vacation." The monotone voice of the victor onscreen caused a ripple effect as the teens on the floor began to giggle at each other's subsequent impersonations. Sirius blinked at the action hero as though his eyes had just been opened for the first time.

"I have an idea."

Before Sirius could elaborate, however, the low chime of the wards, signifying that someone had just flooed into the study, caused all on the couch to scramble from their seats.

"It's only me!" Arthur Weasley's voice called out to them reassuringly, causing the boys spread out across the floor to groan. None of them wanted to go back to the gloom of Grimmauld Place just yet.

Leaving her father to go talk with Arthur, Estella curled up back on the couch next to her godfather, who had already returned to his seat. It was not unusual, after all, for people to frequently call upon her father on the rare occasion he was out of his ancestral home to see to some of the more unresponsive hurdles the uncooperative house would throw at its unwelcome guests. This time, however, things appeared to be a little more serious when a shaken looking Arthur and equally concerned looking Animagus made to address the teenagers.

"We're all going back." Sirius said firmly. "There's been an incident."

Apparently, as Arthur went on to explain quietly, Molly Weasley had a nasty encounter with a Boggart in the upstairs drawing room and she'd yet to calm down. Her greatest fear, as most everyone could guess, was losing her family, and so upon hearing of their mother's distress, all of the Weasley children were keen to return to her.

As they filed towards the Floo – which, in the wake of Estella's midnight wanderings had been limited to just two connections: Hogwarts and Grimmauld Place – Sirius sidled up to his daughter. Though he had not confronted the Boggart himself, it was clear by his sudden clinginess that just the mere mention of a parent's worst fear had invoked an effect on the man.

With Harry on one side, Estella on the other, and Remus slightly in front, they were the last to leave the place they called home. Muttering something to himself about no longer wasting any of the precious few days they got to spend together as a family, Sirius waited until the last Weasley had gone through the Floo before holding everyone else back.

"What's say we ditch the Order and have ourselves a real vacation?"

END CHAPTER: Stir Crazy

NEXT CHAPTER: Rebels With a Cause

DUE: Things are really up in the air at the moment on account of Uni finishing (for good) and starting the application process for graduate employment. Add to that the fact that my computer officially died, and the fact that the computer I have on loan A) has serious RAM issues, continuously crashing Windows and B) the 'privilege' of using said piece of machinery may well be revoked as of tomorrow since I have technically finished my studies; and, well, I'm just hoping you can understand how unpredictable that makes things. I should know more about where I stand insofar as computer access goes within the next week, so for those who review, I'll send out an e-mail with a more definitive update date when I have it available. I can't imagine it being any later than the end of the month, however.


	7. Rebels With a Cause

**Disclaimer: Mmmm, nope, even if I were to change my name by Deed Poll; it still wouldn't be mine…**

**Updated: Monday 31st October 2005**

**Chapter 07: Rebels with a Cause**

"You've got to be joking!" Remus spluttered at his friend in surprise. "You can't actually be considering taking Harry and Estella away from the safety of Grimmauld Place without Dumbledore's knowledge!"

"Better to ask for forgiveness, than permission," said Sirius simply, before Estella quickly cut him off.

"Like we'd even owe him an apology!" she snorted, unimpressed. "He's not our keeper! I doubt he'd even play that part in Quidditch!"

"You're right, kiddo, as usual!" said Sirius, nodding to his daughter in approval and grinning slightly at the unfathomable image of Dumbledore on a broomstick. Squaring his shoulders and looking at his friend, who was unconvinced, he continued. "There's a big wide world out there. Stop being so damn paranoid! They'll never be able to find us if we go somewhere Muggle."

Remus debated this for a moment before sighing. Catching the look in Sirius' eyes that habitually meant that the stubborn Animagus was not about to budge, he knew it was fruitless to protest. His friend, after all, did have a point. Hell, if Peter Pettigrew could hide himself away for 12 years, then surely they could manage going undetected at some obscure Muggle holiday spot for two weeks.

A decisive agreement and clear intention to plot their get away later, the group had returned to Grimmauld Place but a few minutes after the Weasleys. Everyone had been too busy consoling Mrs Weasley to notice the delay, and subsequently, the conspiring party were able to slip off up to Buckbeak's room without drawing attention.

After a brief brainstorming session, all had agreed to bring Tonks in on the coup. Sirius had left to go contact his clumsy cousin whilst Remus left the two teenagers to their excited preamble to see to the other arrangements. Neither teenager had gone on a proper vacation before, so now they could barely contain their excitement. Though Remus had expressed a desire to show Estella the cultural density of central Europe, and Sirius had wanted to track down tickets to that year's Quidditch World Cup, Harry and Estella's only request was that they went somewhere near a beach. When they had reconvened an hour later to finalise their plans, Sirius was still flabbergasted by the news.

"You mean to say neither of you have ever seen the coast?" Sirius was incredulous, and Remus had to avert his eyes away from his friend's glare. "You've both only ever seen Hogwarts, Hogsmeade and London?"

"Well, there was that time Moony took me to meet up with the Tonks' at the Muggle amusement park." Estella interjected quietly, sighing apologetically at Harry's slightly jealous look in her bid to alleviate the scrutiny her godfather was under. "Then the year we went to Reading… OK so we Portkeyed home each night… but it was pouring rain all weekend, I wouldn't have wanted to camp there anyway!"

Sirius did not seem too impressed by the idea of his kids being raised in 'gilded cages', as he called them. The Dursleys' actions, he could fathom… but Severus' decision to keep Estella so close to home was inexcusable.

"Next time I see the greasy-haired bat; Snivellus and I will be having words." Sirius growled scornfully, earning himself a bemused look from Harry and an indignant one from his daughter.

"He only wanted what was best for me, Dad." Estella sighed. "I bet you anything he was only acting on Dumbledore's orders too, you know."

"I think Estella may be right, Sirius." Remus said quietly. "Severus never expected to raise a child – you'd be quite surprised as to how often he looked to Albus or me, for advice."

"Well, if he was so amenable to taking _your_ advice, why did you not advise him that it would have benefited my daughter to see a little of the world?" Sirius scowled. "Poor kid has spent 90 of her life inside a damn school, for crying out loud!"

"Come on, Sirius! You know Severus… he'd never come out and ask for help _directly_! It took me several years to figure out how to extend my input over Estella's upbringing without him telling me to sod off!" Remus pointed out before adding in a slightly lower tone. "Not to mention how long it took me to convince him to let Estella come stay with me overnight at the house!"

If possible, the look on Sirius' face darkened even further. While it was never anything that was openly discussed, it had not escaped Sirius' attention that the godfather of his child had gone to lengths to avoid the tyranny of the man legally entrusted to raise his daughter. It would have been easy, in Estella's younger years, for Severus to have constantly threatened to deny Remus access in order to keep them both in line. Why he allowed the man into Estella's life in the first place, only Severus knew; but Sirius couldn't help but wish things had been different. Had he had his way, he would have been the one to watch his daughter grow; and in absence of choice, Remus was the next best thing. He hated the implication that Severus had been granted such 'power' over child and godfather. That his child had not even gotten to see the room he and her mother had lovingly prepared for their daughter until she was close to Hogwarts age was an even larger injustice.

"Can we get back to planning our vacation?" Estella cut in tiredly. "Did you hear back from Tonks, or what?"

"Yeah, yeah…" Sirius nodded distractedly, his mind still wrapped up in the past, filled with images of his wife as she so lovingly prepared the room for their unborn child. "She'll meet us there."

'There' was a dilapidated old cottage in the wine regions of southern France. Set atop a cliff overlooking the ocean, the property had belonged to a distant Muggle relative of Remus', ensuring that it was all but untraceable by magical authorities. Remus, himself, had all but forgotten that he'd inherited the modest French abode. After he'd been bitten, the isolated property had been the place his parents would secure him during each full moon, and so its existence was not exactly associated with good memories.

The stone walls, he explained, had been reinforced during the first World War. Each window was fitted with heavy iron shutters that had not only secured the property against squatters, but also served to block out the light within during the air raids of World War II. It had been the perfect place for Remus to endure his transformations in the time before he'd started Hogwarts, and would thus be a safe place to hole up in.

* * *

Once upon a time, the house had served as a residence for the proprietors of a small vineyard. Though the acreage surrounding the beachside villa had since grown wild and intangible, giant cellars below the house belied its humbled beginnings. Remus assured them that there would be no shortage of things for them to do.

"Are you sure you do not wish to inform Albus of our plans?" Remus asked for the last time. "You will likely lose any credibility you have gained with the Order lately."

"I don't need them telling me how to raise my kids." Sirius scowled. "I don't care what they think. You and I both know that I wouldn't contemplate this if it wasn't safe; and that's all that matters."

"But are you sure we're taking every available precaution by keeping them out of the loop?" Remus frowned. "What if they need to get hold of us?"

"I've left a note and one of the mirrors." Sirius looked to Estella, who nodded in approval. "There'll be three fully trained wizards there at all times, which is a hell of a lot more than I can say for the 'protection' Harry had in Surrey. Living in plain sight of everyone with a half-blind Squib and blundering idiot like Dung to watch over him! If Dumbledore dares to pull me up on this when we get back I'll be sure to remind him of how safe _that_ arrangement turned out to be!"

"Okay, Padfoot. You've made your point." Remus chuckled slightly, actually seeing sense in Sirius' logic for what could only be the first time. In all fairness, not even Grimmauld Place assured the children as much protection. When you took into consideration the ratio of children to adult and the varying amount of defence against the dark arts experience the trained wizards had, the expedition to France was a more than acceptable risk.

It was inevitable, however, that Dumbledore and the Order would be none too pleased with Sirius' decision to spirit the-boy-who-lived off to some unknown location for something as frivolous as a holiday. Had they tried to arrange something through the 'official' channels, the delays would have rendered the summer break over before they'd even had a chance to step out the door. As he had so bitingly remarked in the note he had charmed to appear to the first person who noticed them missing, Sirius was quick to point out that Harry was not some inhuman machine created to do their bidding. The trip, he reasoned – not that he felt he had to justify his decision, mind – would serve well in giving his young godson some perspective; an insight in all the things in life worth fighting for. Sure, Sirius didn't expect understanding or support, but one day they'd all thank him for his foresight. He was sure of it. Even a blind man could tell that the next few years were not going to be pretty, and that now was probably one of the last chances they – meaning Harry and Estella – would get to be kids.

Unsurprisingly, Sirius' mirror had come to life within an hour of the group reaching their destination. Luckily, Remus had not parted with the Portkey his parents had commissioned in his boyhood to take him to his monthly prison, and it was unlikely that anyone would think back that far when trying to track down where they'd gone. Knowing Sirius as they thought they did, the Order would covertly concentrate their search around loud, crowded tourist locations. Even though the Ministry couldn't do anything since, legally, Sirius was acting completely within his right; there were no illusions to be had about the reach of Dumbledore's influence. Anonymous contacts within the theme parks, both Muggle and Wizarding alike, would likely be put on alert, and an unofficial All-Portkeys-Bulletin would most definitely be placed on any last-minute bookings to the up coming Quidditch World Cup. Luckily, no one, except for maybe Remus, would be able to anticipate that Sirius Black would want to take his charges to a secluded, abandoned vineyard in the middle of nowhere.

Much to Dumbledore's chagrin, Sirius would not so much as hint as to where they were. Existing wards around the property that members from Remus' magical side of the family had erected countless years ago ensured that no locating spell would reveal them. Anti-Muggle wards were also a given, and because such magic was already known to the area, any incidental magic the adult visitors used whilst there would not draw the same attention as unexplained magic in a entirely Muggle area would. They were, effectively, a very small needle in a very large haystack.

"I'm going to stick the mirror in a drawer and walk away now, Albus." Sirius said lightly, though there was little humour in his voice. That the headmaster had reacted so adversely to Sirius' impromptu decision had disappointed him greatly. Did the venerable leader truly believe he would be so foolish as to needlessly risk the lives of his daughter and the boy he loved as a son? All right, so sneaking off without warning as they had done was not the best way to get a man's trust, but at the end of the day, Sirius had only done what he had been fully within his rights to do. He was a fully grown wizard. He didn't have to ask permission to take the children in his care away on a holiday.

"Sirius, please." The headmaster's voice was firm, his shimmering reflection betraying the lines of his aged flesh. "Just tell me where you are so I can dispatch a guard. I only want to ensure your safety, my dear boy."

"Thanks for the offer, Albus, but I do not feel that it is necessary." Sirius turned the offer down again, this time in clipped tones. "If you can't find us yourself, then no one else will."

"Are you suggesting a game of hide and go seek, Sirius?" The headmaster's eyes glinted slightly, though Sirius could not be sure if this was an inflection on the wizard's part, or just a play of light as it hit the mirror. "As much as I would like to indulge you, I'm afraid we're on the verge of war."

"Don't patronise me, Headmaster." Sirius scowled. "I want the kids to be kids while they still can, surely you can understand that? I do wish you'd just trust my judgement."

"Need I remind you of just how important Harry is?"

"No." Sirius said coldly. "Harry and Estella are the single most important things to me in my life. Prophecies be damned, Albus! Sometimes I think you forget that he's just a kid and deserves to have a childhood."

"Harry is too important to take unnecessary risks, Sirius." Albus sighed. "I remember going through the exact same thing with James when I heard he'd taken Harry up on a broom. I really do not wish to impose, Sirius, please believe me. I wish young Harry's childhood could be as rich and normal and rewarding as what he deserves, but unfortunately the weight of the entire Wizarding world lays on his shoulders."

"I know that." Sirius hissed through gritted teeth, biting his tongue less he really say something he'd regret. The man trying to exert his influence over him, as Harry's godfather, was one thing; but to try and tell James how to raise his own son? Suddenly, another reason for why James and Lily had chosen _him_ to be the boy's godfather became increasingly apparent; anyone else would have been Dumbledore's puppet. Steeling himself, Sirius narrowed his eyes at the mirror. "I'm not going to let it stop Harry from having some semblance of normality anymore than James would. Ten years in a cupboard, Albus. A _cupboard_. You tell me, Dumbledore… what would Harry have had to fight for if that's all he had to go home to? You tell me!"

Sirius Black had achieved the impossible, for Albus Dumbledore was rendered speechless. A defeated, weary sigh, was all that could be heard as the battered-down looking old wizard averted his gaze.

"Marvellous concept, these mirrors," he said conversationally, changing the subject. "Do me a favour and at least keep it on your person, hmm? Just in case?"

"I was going to do that anyway, old man." Sirius shook his head in derision. "You may not think it of me right now, Albus, but I was not born an idiot."

"It was not my intention to in anyway imply that I thought you were." Albus said congenially. "I do not doubt the capabilities of those you have taken with you to protect the children. I was merely trying to impress upon you how eager everyone else is to assist you. If you do not wish to accept their help, then that is your choice. I cannot force you."

'Damn straight!' Sirius thought to himself, regarding the mirror in his hand for a moment before putting it down, severing the connection. Though Dumbledore had come to accept that Sirius was not going to divulge their whereabouts, the old wizard gave no inclination of either respecting Sirius' decision or trusting its safety. When the leader of the Order had admitted being unable to force Sirius' hand in this situation, the runaway Order member had to hold back from bitterly acknowledging that Dumbledore would most certainly have put an end to their plans had he known in advance or otherwise had a clue as to their location.

"So what did he say?" Remus let his presence be known just as Sirius shrunk the mirror and slipped it into a pocket of his Muggle shorts. The mid-August weather in the south of France was considerably warmer than either the urban sprawl of London or the rural highlands of Hogwarts. Thankfully, the thick stone walls and slate floors of the cottage kept the house airy and cool.

"Don't ask." Sirius shrugged, the grey-eyed man fidgeting with his wand in much the same way as his daughter.

"So, are we gonna go back and face the Spanish inquisition?"

"Spanish inquisition? Try the entire council for the International Confederation of Wizards." Sirius frowned. "Hopefully they'll be too taken by the fact the-boy-who-lived was able to go on a normal holiday and come home in one piece to get too mad at our 'blatant irresponsibility'."

"Dumbledore said that?" Remus cocked a brow.

"No, Molly Weasley." Sirius flinched at the memory. "Of all the people to notice us missing first…"

Remus laughed. "We'll get Howlers every day for the next year, I'm sure." He said flatly. Knowing the Weasley woman's temper, and her over protectiveness when it came to the boy she considered a seventh son, it was a distinct possibility. Both men flinched.

"Where are the kids?" Sirius asked conversationally. It would not do to dwell on the storm brewing back home when this was supposed to be their holiday.

"Upstairs fighting over bedrooms." Remus smirked. "Both want the room that faces the ocean."

"How many bedrooms are there?" Sirius asked.

"Three." Remus counted mentally in his head before answering. "Two upstairs, and one downstairs beside the kitchen."

"That porch, you mean?"

"It's enclosed!" Remus scowled. "It's a sunroom. My father enclosed it after I was bitten so I could have somewhere a little more open to go recover after the full moon. It gets the morning sun."

"I would never have guessed." Sirius said glibly, the wizard fully aware of the difference between east and west. "Well there are three bedrooms and five of us, so what, do they think we adults are going to sleep in the living room while they lord the upstairs?"

"Oh, I thought you would want to bunk with Harry and put Estella with Tonks" Remus sported a pensive look. "Just so there's a fully-trained wizard with each of them at all times."

"Not a bad idea." Sirius stroked his chin in consideration. "But I don't want them to think that they need that much protection here. They've been sharing a room at Headquarters, so it'll be best to keep things consistent, don't you think?"

"True." Remus nodded. "And I suppose if they share they can both have the front room."

"Well then it's settled." Sirius stood up. "Kids in the front room, you and me in the back room, and Tonks in the sunroom."

"You only just come to that conclusion?" Tonks said, stumbling into the room with a muffled crashing noise in her wake. Ducking her head back the way she came, she assessed the damage. "No worries, Remus, just knocked over a broomstick… or two."

"I'll stick them in the closet." Remus promised. "You stake out the sunroom, then?"

"Yeah, I got here a few minutes before you did. The Muggle trains are a lot faster than they used to be." Tonks informed them. To cover their tracks, Tonks had journeyed to France by Muggle methods, catching a train to the closest village from where Remus had given her detailed directions. The purpose of the exercise was to familiarise one of them with a viable alternate escape route, should magical means of transportation be compromised. Handing Sirius a handful of train timetables, who accepted them with a nod and banished them to a desk drawer, Tonks continued. "I figured that you'd both probably want to be closest to the kids, and that you wouldn't stick 'em in the sunroom because it's not part of the main structure."

The room in question was, in fact, a converted veranda and comparatively exposed when compared to the thick stone walls and reinforced doors of the original structure.

It was a simple cottage, with a large, provincial-style country kitchen - complete with a wide stone stove, a simple, but sturdy, kitchen table - overlooking the overgrown garden, and two formal rooms at the front. The smaller of the downstairs rooms – the one they were in now – was a cosy little study that doubled as the warmer of the two living areas in winter. The desk Sirius had been sitting at faced the window overlooking the ocean. Bookshelves, which had seen better days, lined the walls; most of the books having been picked off by descendants or lost to age. A battered leather couch with matching armchairs surrounded a fireplace on the exterior wall, while French doors on the back wall led to what was now the sunroom, which also had a small door connected to the kitchen.

The main room, which incorporated both the front door and staircase - which was carved into the stone on the far wall and bracketed by heavy oak balustrades - had a open airy feel to it. Following Remus out of the room as he saw to levitating the fallen brooms and directing them to a cupboard under the stairs, Sirius leaned against the out-of-tune upright piano that sat between the study door and front entrance, whilst Tonks propped herself up on the closed lid. Large, comfortable, lived in couches were positioned in a horseshoe in the middle of the room, each one taking advantage of the view afforded them by the large shuttered window. A few bookshelves and a closet lined the outside wall; the stairs carved into it making it appear as though people going up or down the stairs were walking atop the shelves themselves. At the bottom of the staircase, in the corner, was a large wooden cupboard filled, as Remus explained, with Muggle board games and other assorted oddments, and a half-finished Muggle chess set sat neglected on a small table.

Pacing around the room as Remus quietly detailed some of the property's amenities, Sirius took stock of the rustic décor. Heavy, musty floor rugs covered most of the floor around the couches in an abundance of earthy, dark colours. The contrasting textures of the textiles and mismatching upholsteries on the couches had Sirius itching to transform into Padfoot and explore. Upon closer inspection, the dark-haired Marauder could detect evidence of Moony's habitation around the room. The thick, crocheted throws on the couches cleverly disguised the places in which the werewolf had torn the stuffing out of the old chairs, and had he the inclination to look, Sirius was sure he'd detect the faint aroma of old blood on the dark floor coverings. Following Remus' eyes as they unconsciously took in specific points in the room, Sirius could recognise evidence of scarring on the dark stone walls where Moony had likely clawed at the stone.

Looking up at the imposing iron chandelier, from which oil lanterns hung, suspended from the ceiling that reached as far as the roof of the property, Sirius was appreciative to note that Tonks had apparently put her head start to good use, already having gotten a start on the cleaning. The light fixture and exposed beams of the roof above would surely have been matted in cobwebs, otherwise. No sooner had Remus and Tonks followed Sirius' line of sight, did movement above their heads grab their attention. The front bedroom, which was above the low-ceilinged study, had an interior window overlooking the lower level of the house. Estella had just flung open the privacy shutters and stuck her head out.

"We've decided." Estella announced to the adults below. "Harry and I are going to share this room. You lot can fight it out for the rest."

Rolling his eyes at the man he considered a brother, Sirius winked at Tonks before addressing his daughter. Tilting his head back and amplifying his voice so that it would carry, Sirius proceeded to do his best Kreacher impersonation.

"Mistress has made her wishes clear," said Sirius, trying not to laugh and ruin the effect. "Mistress is making a wise decision."

"Mistress is going to short sheet your bed and put flies in your tea." Estella scowled playfully, disappearing from the window to hurl a projectile – a shoe – at her father. In her place, Harry appeared, his face staring down at them with a look of disbelief.

Playing along, Remus adopted a snivelling, submissive pose. Catching the shoe before it could clip Sirius in the head, he beamed. "Oh, Mistress is giving me clothes! I's free!"

"You're free? Well go on, sod off then." Sirius snorted and clipped his friend over the back of the head in amusement; hardly missing a beat. Gaping at the smirking Animagus in shock, Remus promptly retaliated by hitting him with the shoe in his hand. Tonks, meanwhile, was doubled over in laugher and clutching the edge of the couch for support.

"Stop it, stop it. You're too much. The pair of you." She made out, her sentences short as she gasped for breath. "Keep it up and I'll hex your robes into giant pillow cases and make you be our house elves all week!"

Harry looked behind him for a moment, and when he looked back, Estella had squeezed beside him.

"Oh Tonks, would you?"

"Don't you dare." Sirius growled, glaring at his cousin. The effect was lost, however, when he wrestled the shoe from Remus' pliant hand and brandished it at his cousin. "Trust me when I say you do not wish to wage war on the Marauders."

"Sorry guys," Tonks conceded, looking up at the two teenagers apologetically. "They out number me two to one. Maybe when you guys are old enough to use magic outside of school we could get together like this again and even out the playing field."

"For now, how's about we make this place liveable while those of you who can't use magic go check out the crosswind." Remus suggested after getting a nod of approval from Sirius. After years of friendship, certain intentions need not be conveyed verbally.

With the anti-Muggle wards that had been imposed all those years ago to keep innocent people away from what they thought to be a mythological creature on the full moons, it was perfectly acceptable for the holidaying wizards to fly within the boundaries of the property.

"Stay directly above the house for now." Sirius cautioned Harry as he emerged from the room upstairs to run across the exposed landing and down the stairs. "I want to make a sweep of the perimeter and make sure all the wards are in place before we get too carried away."

"Well if you're worried about the wards, Sirius, maybe I should wait." Harry suggested half-heartedly. Though his voice sounded sincere enough when offering to stay indoors, the fact he was out of breath from running downstairs and was now standing in front of his godfather with his broomstick in his hands made his true intentions known.

"No that's all right, Harry. Just stay above the house where we can hear you, OK?" Sirius nodded his assent. "There's not a Muggle within miles of here anyway."

"Well great, what am I supposed to do, then?" Estella had followed Harry down the stairs, albeit at a much more languid pace. "Don't even suggest helping you clean without magic. That'd be like a detention!"

"Well you're quite welcome to go flying with Harry," Remus said, his voice hopeful. "Or you could take a book off the shelf and sit outside in the sun."

"In other words, get out of the house." Estella rolled her eyes before going to where Remus had pointed towards the bookshelves and perusing the titles.

While Harry waited impatiently by the front door for Estella to choose a book, Remus fired a sun-repelling charm in their directions. By the time Estella had chosen, Remus was going over helpful cleaning charms with the adults and planning a course of action since he knew the place best. Sirius, who'd transformed into Padfoot in an attempt to get out of cleaning, was the first to notice that Estella also had her broom with her as she headed towards the front door.

"Just in case Harry needs assistance." Estella said uncomfortably, her cheeks heating up under the scrutiny of the now-attentive adults. She was already out the door and yelling at Harry to not fly into the sun; so she missed the meaningful look the two Marauders gave each other.

* * *

Once outside, Estella watched as Harry took to the air enthusiastically before seeking out a shady spot to sit. Settling for a flat, exposed root of a large fruit tree, Estella leant back against the trunk and stared in confusion at the broom in her hand. She'd not missed the looks the adults had given her when they'd seen her with it; and now she was actually outside she couldn't work out just what possessed her to grab it. On a subconscious level, Estella supposed that the returned memory had awoken her childhood enthusiasm. Grabbing the broom had almost felt like second nature, even though she could only count the number of times she'd flown on one hand.

Confronted now with these conflicting memories – the one that was so recently returned to her, and the ones she grew up with - Estella was at a loss. Instinct had her grab her broom and follow Harry out into the yard. Logic, on the other hand, held her back. If she were simply to act without thinking, Estella supposed that she'd be quite competent in the air; much how she had previously cast her fear aside in the interests of experimentation and necessity. The only problem was, that when not distracted and compelled by a greater force, her mind had a way of catching up with her, reminding her of the implanted fear. Had Estella possessed a greater inclination towards Gryffindor behaviour, she probably would have thrown caution to the wind and pushed herself to fly. As a Ravenclaw, however, she sat, and she stewed.

'This is ridiculous! It was never even _my_ fear!' she tried to convince herself. 'I should just do it…'

Setting the broom aside in frustration, Estella turned her attention towards the book she'd brought out with her. Unable to get into the text, she quickly cast the book aside, frowning. She was increasingly beginning to realise that if she didn't do something to resolve matters soon, it was going to make her crazy. Still, dismissing a fear simply because you'd realised that you'd not always had that phobia was easier said than done… or was it? Maybe if she just did it without preamble, the childhood fascination that Remus' spell had taken from her, would dominate. Scowling in frustration, Estella tapped the heavy, open, book on her knee to the point of distraction. With a sigh, Estella acknowledged that there would only be one way to find out, either way.

* * *

With three wands at play, the three adults made short work of getting the cottage in order. Dust was banished, furniture repaired, and crisp clean linens were transfigured onto the beds. The oil-fuelled lanterns that hung from the ceilings and the wax candles that were affixed to the walls were charmed to respond to magic – never burning low – and the rotting wood in the kitchen's stove was replaced with an Ever-Burn Log.

The bathroom, which was upstairs above the sunroom, consisted of a chamber pot and basin. A single tap on the exterior wall drew water from a small tank directly above them. Remus had to explain how the house had not been updated since it was built in the late nineteenth century. The chamber pots were traditionally emptied by hand into a long-drop in the far corner of the property and the house's water supply came from an outdoor well. Many derivatives of 'swish and flicks' later, and the adults' voices were hoarse from over use. The bathroom now appeared before them as a period Muggle bathroom, complete with indoor plumbing. Instead of being physically linked to any Muggle water supply, however, the water was summoned directly from the natural underground water source, and the human waste, simply banished with each flush. A visiting Muggle would simply assume that the property had installed a septic tank and water pipes.

Back downstairs, the adults lingered in the kitchen to magically set a light stew on the stove to simmer, before grabbing their brooms and heading outside to be with the children.

"You know, you would have made a great Charms Professor." Sirius complimented his best friend, still in awe by the werewolf's wand work indoors.

"Nonsense. Lily was always better than me." Remus was modest to a fault. "To be quite honest with you, Sirius, I made a point of looking the charms up before we left."

"Tsk, tsk, Mr Moony." Sirius wagged his finger at his fellow Marauder. "A Marauder never gives away his secret!"

"Well if that's the case then, Mr Padfoot, Mr Moony will not be sharing the locations of the secret tunnels with his company."

The house, incidentally, sat atop an expansive natural cave system. When the property was first built, the tunnels stretching out of the property were sealed off, with the web of caverns within the vineyard's boundaries converted into a distillery. On the furthest inland corner of the estate, a wide cave entrance made it possible for heavy barrels and casks to be rolled into the underground depths. All that remained there now, as Remus had explained to them all earlier that day, was a indistinguishable rubble of stones from where the stables and trade room had been blown up by an aerial bomber, causing the cave entrance to cave in. The only known entrance that remained, therefore, was a trapdoor in the kitchen.

Some cracks and crevices in the caves led to other unexplored cave systems, but these were largely impassable by grown adults and impossible to map inclusively. The entire property was atop a cliff overlooking the ocean, and it had been whilst exploring the cliff face at low tide, that a young, nimble Remus had traced the source of the well's freshwater. Small, and able to fearlessly crawl into extremely tight places, Remus had found a heated natural spring and a cool, underground river separate from the caverns his family knew about. Having lost track of time on one of these repeat expeditions, Remus' parents had begun a search, and it was from following the sound of his father's voice that he'd been able to find a section of rock that had only barely separated his special place from the main cave his father was searching.

Remus had never told his parents of this discovery, and had marked the location in the main cavern with the intent to return one day when he was older to create an entrance to the underground pool. The Lupins had only vacationed at the humble dwelling for a few weeks each summer, and so he knew he'd not always be able to access the underground spring from the narrow crag in the cliff face. Shortly after that particular trip, however, Remus had been bitten, and the family never holidayed there again because of its new use as the werewolf's pen. When the cursed student had been granted exclusive use of the Shrieking Shack for his transformations, Remus had been glad to see the back of this place and, much like Sirius' feelings towards his ancestral home, had never intended to return.

Circumstances do, however, have a funny way of changing one's mind about such things. Now Remus was here again with the people he considered family; the long-forgotten excitement and sense of adventure he'd once felt whilst there was slowly returning to him. The passage of time and the years he'd had to accept his curse as a werewolf softened his memories. Though he'd never be able to get the image of waking up from his first ever transformation to the sight of his blood everywhere and the room trashed, Remus found that coming back to the cottage with people again drove away the feelings of despondency and abandonment that echoed off the stone walls.

Looking around at the perfect blue sky and feeling the cool sea spray on his cheek as they overlooked the ocean, Remus could not think of a better place to go to get away from the perils of the world. Beside him, Sirius and Tonks felt the same, and they all drew satisfaction from the sight of the 'Dark Lord's Most Wanted' flying around them without a care in the world. Estella, they found propped against a tree in the shade, her book propped up on her knees forgotten as she soaked up the ambience of the world before her. Seeing her watching Harry's actions intently, her broom propped up against the tree behind her, Sirius sauntered over, singing softly.

"Come fly with me, let's fly, let's fly away…" he crooned, placing her broom before her where she could reach and waving his own broom around like a microphone stand.

"No thanks." Estella turned him down gently, though her eyes were brimming with mirth at her father's antics. "Maybe later; it's, er, too warm."

"Suit yourself." Sirius shrugged, not wanting to push the matter. "Though may I suggest you'll have a much better view on the roof."

"In the full sun?" Estella cocked a brow at him.

"Well Moony's been a whiz at Charms today, I'm sure he could surround you with a shade charm." Sirius offered, gesturing towards her broom gently. "Take you two seconds to fly up there. It's not like you've never sat on a roof before."

Choosing not to point out the probable absence of the anti-gravity wards that ensured she'd never fall off the roof at home, Estella shrugged. "How about I see what I can and cannot see from here and see how I go?"

"She sells sea shells by the sea shore." Remus quipped, coming up alongside his brother Marauder, having caught Estella's last comment. "Come on, Padfoot, leave her be. She'll come up on her own steam when she sees how much fun we're having."

Estella made a face at her godfather and shooed her father away, both men mounting their brooms with practiced ease and kicked off to join Harry, who was currently being pursued by Tonks. Soon enough, everyone was too wrapped up in their airborne game of tag to pay the grounded girl any mind, and she found herself yearning to be a part of the action. Tucking her book into the waist of her shorts, Estella rose and dusted herself off. Casually checking to make sure no one's eyes were on her, she calmly bid her broom to rise and mounted it slowly. If anyone were to see her mounting at that moment, only to see her back out two feet off the ground and land, Estella feared she'd not live it down. No, it was best to play her cards close to her chest until she was a little surer of herself.

Before anyone had even noticed, Estella had reached the rooftop. Sitting peacefully on the shaded side of the gable, leaning against the worn terracotta shingle, she marvelled at what she had just so impulsively done. Choosing not to dwell on how she was going to get down, she cast her eyes on her surroundings. From here, she had an interrupted view of the rest of the group as they circled the perimeter of the grounds, Remus' voice carrying across the wind in an inaudible whisper as he pointed out various landmarks to the others.

As dusk began to fall, the flying troupe landed by the tree Estella had been under, all ready to call it a day and head inside for some dinner. Shortly after the four heads had ducked inside, Estella had to bite back a chuckle as she heard the calls of her father below, the lone Animagus unable to find her. On a whim, her father came back outside, broom still in hand, and he circled the back garden directly below her.

Calling her name with increasing urgency, the puzzled expression on his face slowly turned to one of panic. Choosing to put the man out of his misery, Estella smiled malevolently as an idea came to mind. Hefting the book in her hand, Estella took aim, her quiet sniggering escalating into full-blown laughter as the light book hit its target.

"What the?" Sirius rubbed the back of his shoulder and looked down at the book in confusion. Upon hearing his daughter's laughter, however, he spun around and followed the path of the book's trajectory. "How did you get up there?"

"You don't have a very good memory, do you?" Estella leered at her father playfully. "I did what you suggested. I've been up here ever since Harry won that first race."

"What? What?" Sirius spluttered, his behaviour drawing the rest of the occupants out of the house, who now looking up at her, barely able to contain their laughter. Unlike Sirius, they had each noticed her watching them from her vantage point on the roof whilst they had been airborne. "You flew?"

"No. I jumped." Estella deadpanned. "Of course I flew!"

"You scared the living daylights out of me!" Sirius half scowled. "We couldn't find you!"

"Not my problem you didn't think to look up." Estella smirked. "Besides, you should have listened to Moony. He told you not to worry, didn't he?"

"Yes." Sirius acquiesced before the ramifications of that statement hit him full force and he spun around to glare at his friend. "You _knew_?"

Remus ducked Sirius' jelly legs hex and bolted into the house, calling out after him something about dinner being ready. Wary of the same retribution, Tonks and Harry were hot on his heels. Sirius remained, staring up at his daughter with an odd expression on his face. Pocketing his wand and bringing his broom into a mounting position, he grinned.

"You're so going to pay for that."

"You'll have to catch me first." Estella squeaked, rolling away from her father's sight and onto her broom in one fluid movement.

Sirius, who had been preoccupied on his ascent and busy dismounting his broom on the roof to notice what she'd done, was astonished to see Estella already on the ground. He'd fully expected to peer over the gable she'd rolled behind to find her crouching in wait. Not many people dared to mount their broom in a roll like that. Most generally assumed that it couldn't be done that way. But then again, Estella wasn't most people, and she knew slightly more about a broom's capabilities than the average person. More than likely, Sirius realised, his daughter had no idea of the significance of what she'd just pulled off.

She'd just outplayed a Marauder.

By the time Sirius had gotten over his surprise and followed his daughter down to the ground, Estella had already made her way through the kitchen door and was seated at the kitchen table next to Harry, helping herself to some bread as though nothing had happened. Walking past her on his way to put his broom away in the closet, Sirius paused to ruffle Harry's hair and kiss the top of Estella's head.

"You win." He muttered into her hair, his hand squeezing her shoulder proudly as he passed. Sirius didn't need to look his daughter in the face to see that she was smiling broadly at his admission.

* * *

Later that night, after the dishes had been cleared away and charmed to wash themselves in the sink; the Marauders and their guests pulled on some warmer clothes and adjourned to the roof for some star gazing. Having been the only person who had spent parts of his childhood in the region, Remus was intimately aware of the spectacular vantage point the rural location afforded them. As comprehensive as the Astronomy Tower at Hogwarts was, there was just no overcoming the bright lights that resonated from the castle's windows, or the habitual fog and cloud cover that characterised the local climate. Here by the beach, however, once the shutters on the cottage's windows were closed, there was not a man-made light to be found for as far as the eye could see. The Mediterranean climate too, was partial to clear, summer skies, and so the urbanised travellers were in for a treat.

"Wow!" Estella sat between her father and godfather, her mouth agape as her eyes darted across the horizon, taking in the sight. "I'd heard about this, but, my goodness!"

"Wow!" Harry mirrored Estella's sentiment from where he sat on the other side of Sirius, leaning against the chimney.

Tonks, sitting next to Remus, shrugged nonchalantly.

"What's a star other than a giant ball of gas by another name?" she said, earning herself a glare from no less than four turned heads.

"Are you saying Sirius here is a giant ball of gas?" The corners of Remus' mouth twitched, and he was thankful that Estella sat between himself and the object of his taunts.

"Well I don't know." Tonks played along, leaning towards Remus conspiringly. "For your sake, I hope not. You're the one who has to share a room with him."

"Moony, if we weren't on a rooftop I'd swear to Merlin I'd hex you two ways to Sunday!" Sirius growled, though there was little real threat to his voice.

The playful jabs flew back and forth between the five kindred spirits. For the next few hours, they took turns with the retractable telescopes Estella and Harry both had in their school trunks and made up stories about the constellations. While Sirius filled the teenager's heads with stories of the Marauder's Astronomy lessons, Remus, on the other hand, was virtually unaware of the other's presence. He was far too busy slipping into full on 'professor mode', answering all of Tonks' questions.

Ever the Marauder, Sirius could not prevent himself from nudging the two teenagers and gesturing towards the oblivious werewolf and Metamorphagus as though there was something brewing between the two. While Harry was inclined to shooting his godfather a knowing look and hum along to the refrain of 'Tonks and Moony sitting in a tree…', Estella could only shake her head.

"Uncle Remus," she nudged the man gently, trying to get his attention. "Remus… _Moony_!"

"Huh? Oh yes, Estella, would you like your telescope back?" Remus offered politely, as though he hadn't just been ignoring her calls.

"Oh, yes Moony, I would like my telescope back." Estella drawled sarcastically, waving the telescope she'd gotten back from the man no less than ten minutes previously in front of his face.

"Oh." Remus blinked confusedly at the telescope, at Estella, and then at the smirking Sirius and Harry along the line.

* * *

Early the next day, Sirius and Remus set about locating the blocked entry point to the underground spring. While they were vacationing, the pair had also gotten it into their heads to set themselves the challenge of trying to map the trafficable corridors of tunnels. The plan, ultimately, was to create a security device not unlike the Marauder's Map of Hogwarts. As they planned to trace the route of each tunnel, those thoroughfares that were deemed either unsafe or unpassable would be magically sealed for added security. For now, however, the two surviving Marauder's plans were more intent on _creating_ an entrance.

"It's got to be around here somewhere! I marked the stone quite clearly!" Remus was frowning at the outcrop of rocks on the far end of one of the cellar's smaller caverns. "I can only hope the marking did not wear away. If I could have made a marking with magic, I would have just made the hole."

"I can't see how it could have eroded, Moony. There's no draft to speak of." Sirius shook his head. "It's got to be… ah… is this it?"

"Yes!" Remus scurried over to his friend and inspected the unnatural marking on the rock. It was little more than a stick exiting from a small hole Remus had been able to spy his father through that eventful day in his youth. "This is the thinnest wall between the two chambers."

"All right then, let's get this broom in the air." Sirius rolled up his sleeves. While the weather above ground was sunny and dry, the temperature below was consistently cool and damp. "This oasis of yours better be all it's cracked up to be." He turned his head towards the trapdoor leading to the kitchen, where Estella, Harry and Tonks were attempting to bake a cake. "Fire in the hole!"

"'Fire in the hole', Sirius?" Remus assumed a battle stance and levelled his wand at the stone.

"Sorry, Moony, always wanted to say it." Sirius admitted sheepishly, mirroring his friend's position. Since his reintroduction into the world, the pardoned convict had taken a particular liking to Muggle action movies. "On the count of three?"

"One…"

"Two…"

"Three…"

"What the!" Three indignant voices cried out as the earth shook in protest. Up on ground level, in the kitchen, Tonks had been caught unaware by the blast and thrown a bag of flour in the air.

Emerging from the trapdoor covered in masonry dust, Remus and Sirius came up for air. Upon seeing Tonks and their two charges covered head to toe in flour, Remus could not help but summon his camera.

"The, er, cellar will be off limits until we get it sorted." Sirius climbed out of the floor and began dusting himself off as Remus started snapping photos of the willing extroverts.

"That's all right, Padfoot." Harry ruffled his scruffy black hair, causing a cloud of flour to rise above his head. "The cake will be… _delayed_."

"Right then." Remus said decisively. "Shift change. Padfoot, you help the kids with the cake. Tonks, do you mind helping me finish up down here?"

"Not at all." Tonks smiled brightly and dropped into the trapdoor beside Remus. Unsurprisingly, the clumsy Metamorphagus lost her footing on the ladder and disappeared, completely missing the meaningful look Sirius had exchanged with the two teenagers at Remus' suggestion.

"I'm all right!" she called out from the depths below as several sets of eyes crowded around the trapdoor to assess the possible damage.

"Are you sure it's safe to have Tonks down there with you?" Harry whispered to his former defence professor worriedly. "What if she trips and sends a Reductor curse at the roof?"

"Oh I'm sure she won't trip, Harry." Sirius smirked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. "Moony will hold her hand, won't you Moony?"

Scowling at his friend, Remus shook his head and disappeared down into the cellar. Watching the dim glow of Remus' wand light disappear as he made his way deeper into the cavernous space below, Sirius returned his attention to the state of the kitchen. "So, are we baking a cake or what?"

* * *

Many cleaning charms and non-magical curses later, and the smell of chocolate cake baking in the oven lured the sweet-toothed Moony and Tonks out from the cellar.

"Is that cake I smell?" Remus leapt out of the cellar trapdoor enthusiastically, his nose leading him to sniff around the oven like his lupine alter ego.

"Duh." Estella was sitting upon the counter, swinging her legs against the cupboards as she made short work of a Popsicle. "Thank goodness for cooling charms, else the heat in here would be unbearable! When can we go for a swim?"

"Yeah," Harry chimed in, his head appearing from around the door of the charmed ice box as he pulled an armful of Butterbeers from its depths. "Did you find the spring?"

"Of course!" Remus scorned. "It's just how I remember it. Tonks was insightful enough to make a little… adjustments…"

"Well come on then, let's go!" Sirius downed the Butterbeer Harry had handed him and stood from where he'd been perched on the corner of the kitchen table. Placing the bottle on the table behind him, he reached out to Estella who was sitting on the counter opposite him. Helping her hop down from the counter, the three dark-haired occupants of the room looked towards the trapdoor.

"Can't we have the cake first?" Remus pouted.

"What, and then have to wait 45minutes before swimming?" Estella shook her head. "No way."

"Besides, it will need time to cool." Harry informed the disappointed chocoholic, crossing the kitchen to switch the oven off and pull the cake out.

Leaving said cake out to cool, everyone rushed to their respective rooms to fetch their towels and swimwear. To ensure each other's privacy, Sirius had transfigured parchment into a pair of matching privacy screens, behind which each teenager in his care could dress in their shared room.

"Should have packed some Gillyweed." Estella sighed as she headed down the stairs in step with Harry. "We could have explored the depths of the spring."

"Neither of you will do any such thing." Remus cautioned them from behind. "You could easily get swept up in an undercurrent and be taken into a chamber with no air above water level."

"Like being trapped under the ice on a frozen lake?" Estella shuddered, faltering a little in her step.

Coming up alongside her, Remus wrapped an arm around her shoulder and smiled reassuringly at her. "You'll be fine, so long as you stay close to us." He kissed the top of her head. "No testing to see how deep it is, all right?"

"Or testing to see how long you can hold your breath." Sirius was slightly out of breath as he struggled to catch up with them. "Moony has enough grey hairs."

"Yes, Dad." Estella giggled as she felt her godfather stiffen in indignation. Darting forward, she stole past the two men and chanced a mischievous look over her shoulder. "Last one to the trapdoor gets the last piece of chocolate cake!"

As predicted, Sirius and Remus leapt forward, their wide frames too broad to stand alongside each other on the modest staircase, resulting in an overdramatic display of playful pushing and shoving. That is, until, halfway down the stairs Sirius launched himself over the balustrade and tore ahead of his unfortunate friend.

Once down in the cellar, Remus led them to the opening leading to the underground water source. Though they had already trailed the cliff-side path down to the shoreline; the razor-sharp rocks and volatile tides made the inexperienced swimmers reluctant to swim in the open sea. Both children had only ever swam in a confined body of water, and after a brief experimentation, were particularly unnerved by saltwater.

The 'adjustments' Tonks had made to the natural swimming pool were purely aesthetic. The walls and domed ceiling of the room glittered with the abundance of twinkling lights, giving the mossy rocks on the water's edge and the misty steam coming off the tempered water a mystical, other-worldly feel. Along one wall, comfortable all-weather lounges provided seating, and a towel rack gave them a place to hang their towels. After an unfortunate incident that, as Remus explained on the way down, saw Tonks slip on some moss and fall into the water, anti-slipping charms on the floor gave the adults peace of mind. There was no need to add to the scars on Harry's head, they said.

"So, can we just…" Estella looked to her godfather for confirmation, but was cut off as her father tore past her and, in spectacular fashion, transformed into Padfoot in mid-air as he leapt into the water. "…jump in?"

"Only from that rock over there." Remus pointed to where Sirius had leapt from. Harry was in the water before he even had a chance to put his hand down.

Watching the big black dog paddle around his godson, whose glasses Remus had charmed to stay dry and on the boy's face, Estella loitered at the water's edge. Sitting on a mossy rock, she dangled her feet in the water, content to watch the pair play. In her peripheral vision, Remus was helping Tonks walk down a natural stair in the rock face, slowly entering the sparkling depths. As she watched the unlikely couple sink into the water, Estella didn't notice her father's appearance at her feet.

"Hello, Padfoot," Estella chuckled and leant forward to pat the panting canine on the head. Before she knew what was happening, Sirius had transformed and grabbed her hand, pulling her into the water. She screamed.

"It's okay, I've got you." Sirius laughed, a strong arm holding her above water until she found her bearings.

"That's what I'm worried about." Estella retorted, worming out of her father's grip and kicking off from the wall to swim away.

Sirius, however, had other plans, and pulled her back by her foot. Estella was helpless as he lifted her up like a rag doll and threw her towards the centre of the pool. The sounds of splashing and laughter echoed off the walls.

* * *

The day flew by in much the same manner. After a late morning tea of chocolate cake, the five spent the afternoon sunning themselves in the garden and gorging on tropical fruit. By the end of it, Remus was sure they'd return the following summer to find the garden full of trees. The pits from the array of peaches, apricots and other assorted stone fruit they had been ingesting had soon found themselves as projectiles in a impromptu turf war.

Dinner was a light affair of French pastries Tonks had picked up. Being a Metamorphagus, she was free to disguise herself and Apparate to the nearest Muggle village to replenish their supplies. The others relied on her to introduce them to as many of the local tastes and experiences as possible because none of them had any intentions of leaving the security of the wards. Having exhausted herself swimming, shopping and maintaining a consistent 'face', Tonks was the first to retire for the night, shortly followed by Estella.

"Are you all right, cub?" Remus sat on the edge of his goddaughter's bed and smoothed her covers under her chin. "It's still quite early. Are you sure you're feeling ok?"

"I'm fine, Moony. Tired, is all." Estella yawned widely to prove her point. Weeks spent cooped up within a musty house in London had clearly taken its toll on her stamina. "Had a late night last night, after all, and I don't know about you, but today wiped me out."

"Tomorrow it will only get better." Remus leant down and kissed her forehead. "I promise."

Remus had just been about to leave the room and call for Sirius, who was in the middle of being taught to play the Muggle boardgame 'Clue' by Harry downstairs, when Estella called him back. He looked at her curiously, mentally ticking off his list to try and figure out if he had forgotten something.

"Do you like Tonks?" Estella asked bluntly as Remus resumed his seat on her bed.

Almost leaping to his feet at the shock of the question, Remus settled for turning his head away, his cheeks flushed. "What makes you say that?"

"Well, whether or not you realise it, whenever you're in the room with her it's like you forget the rest of us are even here." Estella pointed out. "Not that there's a problem with that or anything. I'm just curious."

"Your father put you up to this, didn't he?" Remus looked at her levelly, the question of how easily Sirius had stayed behind while Remus went to tuck Estella in suddenly being answered.

"No." Estella assured him. "But I am sure he'll corner you himself when he gets the chance. You're being kinda obvious."

"I am?" Remus furrowed his brow. He'd not been consciously aware that there was any particular chemistry between himself and his best friend's young cousin. That everyone else seemed to be noticing it unnerved him slightly. He had half a mind to chalk it down to the fact that none of them had ever really seen him interact with a member of the opposite sex, but something stopped him. It had been so long since he had last pursued a relationship, what if he had blinded himself to the signs? His deepening musings were cut off by his goddaughter's continuing line of questioning.

"So? Do you like her, or are you, like, like this around any chick?" Estella sat up in her bed and looked her godfather in the eye. "Cause it's okay if you want to get yourself a girlfriend. I never really thought of it before, but I guess I kinda took up a lot of your time…"

Astounded by his goddaughter's frankness, Remus searched for the right words. "Estella… I don't know what brought this on, but I assure you I did not put my life on hold in any way when I chose to be a part of your life."

"Oh, so did you date and never introduce me to your girlfriends then?"

"What?" Remus spluttered, inwardly hoping that Sirius had not cast an eavesdropping charm, else he'd never get any sleep that night. Taking a deep breath to steel himself, he tried to explain. "I can't expect you to understand this, Estella, but entering into a relationship with someone has never been something I've really paid a lot of thought to."

"Oh, so you _don't_ want to date Tonks, then?" Estella quirked a brow.

"That's not what I said." Remus shook his head.

"So you _do_! I knew it!" Estella smiled widely.

"I didn't say that either!" Remus was getting frustrated. How was he supposed to answer these questions when he didn't even know the answers himself? "Estella you must understand that it's not exactly easy for a person of my… of my… _disposition_… there's not a lot a person like me can offer a woman-"

"A werewolf, you mean?" Estella narrowed her eyes. She knew her godfather was talking about a werewolf's inability to father children or hold down steady employment. He nodded. "So, like, what, you thought you'd just take yourself off the market? Deny yourself any chance-"

"What chance could I possibly have?" Remus whispered hoarsely, unable to believe his own ears that he was confiding such matters to his goddaughter. "Whether or not I like a person doesn't matter, Estella. It's what's best for them that is important."

"Yes, but if they…" she looked at her godfather pointedly. "…and I think we both know who 'they' is… if they know you're a werewolf from the beginning, then don't you think you're being a little hard on yourself? I may not really know much about relationships, but I sure as hell know that there's more to them than being able to have children or be a provider. If that's all there was to it, why, my grandmother might have actually had cause to smile in that blasted portrait."

"I'm too old to date." Remus said firmly, chuckling slightly at his goddaughter's logic. The image of Sirius' parents being a loving, happy couple caused his eyes to twinkle in amusement.

"Remus! By wizarding standards, you're still a teenager." Estella admonished. It was a widely known fact that, unnatural death aside, the average lifespan of a witch or wizard was, more or less, close to twice the age of regular Muggles. The more powerful that person's magic, the longer they would live. Though Remus was a werewolf, that he was a magically gifted werewolf, ensured him a decent natural lifespan. "Stop making excuses for yourself."

"But-"

"No buts." Estella cut him off. "You listen to me, Remus Lupin. Do you think I ever questioned you being my godfather? Do you think I ever wished I could have someone else be there because you were a werewolf? I never thought those things, and you want to know why? Because I had everything I needed in you. You've always been there for me, and-"

"Stop." Remus stopped her talking with a trembling hand to her lips as he pulled her into a bone crushing hug. "I love you, cub."

"Love you too, Moony." Estella muffled into his chest. "Even if you are a blundering oaf who can't take a bit of praise." She pulled away to look directly into his eyes, which were, at that moment, unnaturally bright. "Look, I'm not going to goad you or try and set you up or anything…" Remus raised a brow at her in surprise as she continued. "I just want you to be happy; and I mean if there's '_someone_'out there for you, I think you should quit holding yourself back and go for it. What do you have to lose?"

Remus smiled slightly and nodded; his throat inexplicably tight. Pulling her in for another hug, he nuzzled his face in her hair and deeply inhaled her scent. The whole world could be falling apart around them, but he wouldn't care so long as he had his cub in his arms. There was no denying that they had grown even closer ever since Severus had permitted him to take the child overnight. Yet even as an infant – back when he had only been able to see Estella for but a few hours at a time – there had always been something about her presence – her scent – that controlled his emotions. During moments like this, when Estella was content and feeling safe and relaxed, Remus would, in turn, feel euphoric and as though he could take on anything. Just the same, whenever Estella was tense or upset, he'd be doubly on edge. It was clear to him that the wolf within had truly marked Estella as his cub, and he idly wondered just what would happen if anyone tried to take the girl away from him. What had started as a lonely man's dedication to honour the dying wish of one of his closest friends had evolved into something he'd never have been able to imagine.

Squeezing her one last time, a deep breath stabilising the fierce feelings of possessiveness that loomed just below the surface, Remus cupped her face in his hands and kissed her forehead. "Sweet dreams, cub," he said. "See you in the morning."

"Night Moony." Estella leaned into his touch one last time before snuggling down into the blankets he pulled up over her.

Remus was still wearing an awed, dazed smile on his face as he emerged from Estella's doorway. Though part of him could not help but chuckle at the cute assumptions his goddaughter had come up with, part of him had begun to question just how he saw Tonks. The pensive look on his face quickly turned to surprise when he realised Sirius was leaning against the balustrade on the landing outside the door, blocking his path.

"Oh, Sirius, you startled me." Remus inhaled sharply and took a step back, an uncontrollable guilty look flashing across his eyes. Had Sirius overheard?

"Took you long enough." Sirius made a show of looking at his watch and raising an expectant brow at his friend. "Everything OK, Moony?"

"Never better." Remus smiled broadly, chuckling slightly at his friend's puzzlement as he passed him. However long the man had been waiting outside the door, the thick walls had protected the privacy of their conversation. "You want a hot chocolate?"

"Are you kidding? In this heat?" Sirius faltered from where he'd had his hand on the door knob leading into the front bedroom. "But if you're going to take orders on _iced_ chocolate, then I am sure you could count both me and Harry in."

"You're a lucky man, Sirius." said Remus as he turned back to face his friend, his eyes pausing on the closed bedroom door.

"That I am, Moony." Sirius nodded, not quite getting Remus' meaning. "Because you're going to put three scoops of ice cream in mine and hold the nuts, right?"

"Right, Padfoot," Remus smirked, shaking his head slightly as he spun on his heel and headed downstairs to the kitchen.

* * *

"Come on, Estella, please?" Three male voices whined at her pleadingly for the umpteenth time that hour. "We're a person short! We can't do it without you."

"I wouldn't be of any use." Estella refused them exasperatingly.

"There's only one Beater." Sirius assured her. "The Bludger will be easy to keep track of."

"No." Estella shook her head. She'd not flown since she took herself up to the rooftop that first day, and she was not about to leap headfirst into a game of Quidditch, regardless of how much she was secretly yearning to give flying another go. "I can't understand how you can even play Quidditch with five people anyway."

"It wouldn't be a competitive game." Harry explained. "Just like drills and stuff. "Two chasers to practice passing the Quaffle and score past a Keeper, a Beater to hit a Bludger around, and a Seeker to practice catching the Snitch."

"But what's the point of catching the Snitch if it's not a game?" Estella questioned. "If you're short a Chaser, don't play Seeker." Harry stared at her as though she had grown an extra head. "What? Don't look at me like that, Potter! It wouldn't do you any harm learning how to play another position!"

"Estella's right." said Remus quietly, coming up behind his goddaughter and wrapping his arms around her shoulders in support. "Harry, just play Chaser."

"But I need to practice catching the Snitch!" Harry pouted.

Sirius and Remus exchanged a look… perhaps bringing the Marauder's old Quidditch set along was not such a good idea after all. Though James had played Chaser on the house team, he'd carried the Marauder's Snitch around with him at school ever since McGonagall had confiscated the one he'd nicked from the School's sports shed. It was a well known fact that James Potter had liked to try and impress the ladies by tossing the Snitch in the air, showing off his reflexes as he caught it before it got away. Ever since Harry had been reunited with one of these said Snitches, he was just itching to let the small winged ball fly again so he could catch it.

"Look, tell you what, how about we _all_ just go for a fly to start with?" Sirius suggested, looking at Estella in a way that indicated to her that she would be expected to do at least this. "I know you aren't that hot about flying, kiddo, but I'd feel a lot better if you got to see an aerial of the property – just so you know where everything is."

"Your father's right." Remus whispered into her ear as he pulled her back to lean against him. "There's certain obstacles that are better pointed out from the air and if you want to go on that hike to the ruins this afternoon; it'd pay to see what you'll be in for."

"Oh, all right." Estella huffed, though inwardly a newly awakened part of her was secretly keen to give flying another go. She had a hunch that most of her problem now lay with getting the courage to take off. Once she was in the air, Estella didn't think she'd have as much of a problem anymore.

"_Then_ can we all play Quidditch?" Harry whined. "I'm sure once you get up there, Estella, you'll realise it's not all bad. At least give it a go."

"I'm not a Gryffindor." Estella stuck her tongue out at her godbrother as she accepted her broom from Tonks, who had just summoned it for her. "We Ravenclaws don't go around trying things just for the sake of trying things."

"Children, children!" Sirius admonished them. "Settle down."

Instantly humoured by Sirius' insincerity, the teenagers laughed.

"Whatever," they muttered simultaneously, too busy mounting their matching Firebolts to pay any mind to the whimsical looks the adults were shooting each other.

"We'll take it nice and slow, okay?" Remus assured her as he mounted his broom alongside her.

"I'm not a porcelain doll, Moony." Estella snorted, kicking off hard and ascending fast. Calling back over her shoulder as she regarded her guardian's looks of surprise, she smirked, only inwardly surprised at herself. "Let's get this over with, shall we?"

Estella found that so long that she didn't _think_ about what she was doing, flying was becoming more and more enjoyable. Of course, it helped that she was in the air with people she trusted implicitly and was comfortable being with because she knew that they'd never lead her to harm. Once she had gotten a feel for the conditions, Remus had led the group on an aerial tour of the grounds. All four of her companions added to the colourful commentary as they had already flown over the various landmarks previously.

Before she knew it, Estella found herself eased into an impromptu game of Quidditch. It started with her father handing her the Quaffle… the passes gradually getting further apart and more technical as she gained confidence. Next thing she knew, the father-daughter pair were working together to get the Quaffle past Remus and through the hovering hula hoop Tonks had bewitched to represent a goal ring. As much progress as she was making, however, Estella was not accustomed to the physical exertion that handling a broom through Quidditch manoeuvres put the body through. While the others were able to go on playing for hours on end, Estella was quick to tire, and so retired to watch the antics of the others from the shade of the ruins on the northern end of the property.

"You were… amazing." Sirius flew down alongside his daughter and conjured a pair of sun lounges as he prepared to watch Remus and Tonks race Harry to the Snitch.

"Only because you guys were going easy on me." Estella shrugged.

"Well, I won't deny that Moony let some easy saves by…" Sirius acknowledged flippantly. "But that probably has more to do with his age, than any lack of trying on his part."

"I'll be sure to tell him that." Estella smirked, knocking shoulders with her father as they sat side by side.

"Not that I don't remind him everyday." Sirius countered, pulling his daughter into a headlock and kissing her head. "So, when you gonna try out for the House team?"

"I'm not." Estella said with a tone of finality, worming out of her father's grip. "Fooling around with people I trust and feel comfortable with is different from putting myself up against other teams. Besides, Moony never played for Gryffindor, did he?"

"But, come on, you are in the enviable position of having connections to two of the most competitive House teams." Sirius informed her. "Think about it… the Slytherins won't go near you for fear Severus would poison their mouthwash, and Harry will keep the Gryffindors on a leash, that I'm sure of."

"I don't believe it." Estella shook her head.

"He loves his Quidditch, I know, I know." Sirius looked at his daughter intently. "But I think you'll find he's rather protective of you. And if he's not, he'll have me to answer to."

"That's not what I meant." Estella giggled. "You called him _Severus_."

"No I didn't." Sirius scowled playfully.

"Whatever." Estella rolled her eyes. "I'm still not trying out."

"Why not?" Sirius pleaded with her with wide, puppy-dog eyes.

"Don't look at me like that." Estella scowled at him. "And don't even think of transforming for effect."

"Fine. I won't." Sirius scoffed, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms across his chest in mock indignation. "Waste your natural talent. Be just like your mother."

"Fine! I will!" Estella spat back, throwing herself back in her chair in a similar fashion. Exchanging a sidelong look, the pair dissolved into laughter.

"Now _there's_ that teenage rebellion I'm more intimately familiar with." said Sirius. "Can't be a Quidditch player like your old man, oh no, you have to imitate his rebellious streak instead."

"Ha! So you admit it!" Estella grinned victoriously.

"What? I've always maintained I was a rebellious teenager." Sirius corrected her smugly.

"Yes, but you just referred to yourself as a, quote, 'old man'!" Now it was Estella's turn to look smug.

"No! I did no such thing!" said Sirius defensively. "I… I… oh bugger."

"So how's it feel to be an old man, old man?" Estella leered at her father, dodging her father's hand as he attempted to cuff her upside the head in response.

"Watch it, you." Sirius warned, though it was an empty threat. Settling for putting his arm around her shoulder, he pulled her close. "Are you having a good holiday?"

"Dad, we've only been here a few days." Estella rolled her eyes.

"What do you think so far?"

"What do _you_ think?" Estella smiled. "I think coming here was a great idea, though part of me wishes I could be a fly on the wall back at Headquarters right now. It's not very often Dumbledore doesn't know something."

"Well he didn't know James, Peter and I became Animagi." Sirius supplied. "You'd think he'd be used to us Blacks surprising him by now."

"Well, you know what they say about teaching old dogs new tricks." Estella drawled, rolling her eyes as her father started to splutter and snort as he barked with laughter. Chuckling slightly herself, she leant back and watched the flyers above as they played keep away with the Quaffle.

Once the laughter had died down, father and daughter sat in companionable silence, both content to watch the others fly. Turning to her father suddenly, Estella furrowed her brow in thought. "Dad…"

"Yes?" Sirius tore his eyes away from his godson up above and locked eyes with his daughter. Upon seeing her expression, he frowned. "What is it? Are you hot? Do you want to head back?"

"No…" Estella shook her head. "I was just wondering…" she took a breath. "Why… why did no one, um, you know, clean up after Moony?"

"What?" Sirius spun around to look at his daughter completely.

"The claw marks on the walls and the um, bloodstains on the rug." Estella chewed on her bottom lip. "Surely someone could have used magic to clear it away. I notice one of you had done so while Harry and I were outside that first day. Why wasn't it ever done before? One of Remus' parents was magical, weren't they?"

"You saw that, huh?" Sirius sighed, muttering something about his daughter's astute observation skills. "Well, I'm not too clear on it myself, but I think it made the transformations easier. I remember one time, James and I had thought we were doing the right thing by cleaning up the Shrieking Shack…" his voice trailed off. "But… but the following month, Merlin, the following month I don't think I'd ever seen Moony so agitated."

"Oh." Estella nodded. The wolf in her godfather must like to mark its territory. "So now Remus has the Wolfsbane it doesn't matter, right?"

"Right."

"So that time when you knocked over the cauldron and he had to transform without it…" Estella worried her lip between her teeth. If her assumptions were correct, the only two places her godfather had transformed prior to the invention of the Wolfsbane had been either in this cottage or, later, at the Shrieking Shack. The night in question, Remus had spent the full moon in 'unmarked' room, most likely full of all their scents. "That was an exceptionally bad night?"

Unable to speak, Sirius settled for nodding; a flush of shame colouring his cheeks.

"He's really strong, isn't he?" Estella marvelled.

"Estella, your godfather is one of the strongest people I know." Sirius said genuinely. "In body and in mind. Don't tell him I told you that."

"Oh of course not. Wouldn't want him to get a head as big as yours." Estella retorted, settling back down to watch her godfather fly now that her concern had been relieved. In a small voice, she addressed her father one last time, though she didn't look away from the figures flying above the tree line. "You know he said the same about you once."

"Really?" Sirius responded, his eyes not leaving the distant dot that was his last living friend. Taking one last look of their surrounds, he leapt to his feet and offered his hand to his daughter. "Come on, what's say we hike back? They'll be flying in soon."

"Okay." Estella responded, taking her father's hand and letting him pull her up. "I wouldn't mind collecting some soil samples as we go."

"That's right, you want to plant some plants for potions, don't you?" Sirius recalled. "Why can't you just plant them all in the kitchen garden again?"

"Because different plants require different soil types, silly." said Estella. "The acidity and chemical constitution of the earth effect different plant species differently, and while I could just sow plants that are best suited for the soil in that patch of the garden, I'd really like for all the ingredients for one particular potion to be grown on the premises."

"Wolfsbane?" Sirius looked at his daughter knowingly, barely catching her imperceptible nod. "I thought the smell of potions gets to you since…"

"I started flying, didn't I?" said Estella, cutting her father off shortly. "In any event, the farming of ingredients is more Herbology than Potions. I can't even brew Wolfsbane anyway, even if I wanted to try. It's just that Remus has always said he feels bad about taking the potion from Severus every month without restitution. Some of the components are rather rare, you know."

"So, this way he can supply his own ingredients, huh?" Sirius regarded his daughter with a newfound respect. While Dumbledore would not permit Severus to accept financial restitution, not even he could find fault with the furnishing of high quality ingredients.

"Don't tell him though," said Estella. "I want it to be a surprise… a thank you for bringing us here."

"Does that mean I have to help?" Sirius pouted.

"Of course!" Estella told him. "I'm only the brains… you're the brawn. Hope you're good at digging."

END CHAPTER

NEXT CHAPTER: Stars and Moons

DUE: Hopefully by the 16th… I don't have access to a PC at home anymore, so my connectivity is restricted to the local library and on my brother's PC when he's at class. I've typed to the end of chapter 12, but I'm mostly writing by hand now; so the turn around of transcribing my unintelligible scrawl and getting it beta-read is going to slow things down. By placing a couple of weeks between chapters I've already written, I'm hopefully giving myself the chance to get far enough ahead in the process so that lengthier delays won't occur later on down the track. Thank you for your continued patience and understanding…


	8. Stars and Moon

**Disclaimer: If it were mine, I'd at least have a air conditioner… and a computer that works… and a job to put on my tax return LOL. **

**Updated Thursday 17 November 2005 **

**Chapter 08: Stars and Moons**

For the next several days, Estella put all the vacationers to work preparing patches of soil at locations all around the garden. Not that they toiled the earth all day… just a few hours in the morning or evening while the light was good and weather cool. The warmest part of the days they still spent either indoors, in the water, or out exploring the shaded areas of the property and mapping the grounds.

"I reckon, Harry," Estella grunted while pulling up a particularly stubborn weed early one such morning, "that if we document our progress, Professor Sprout may just give us extra credit in Herbology."

"Why can't we just get Moony to banish these weeds, again?" Harry scowled, stabbing his trowel at a thick root. Only a Ravenclaw would ever contemplate doing something for _extra_ credit.

"Because, magic on the soil interferes with the growing process," Estella informed him exasperatedly, shaking some dirt from the sleeve of her dragon-hide gloves. "These are particularly sensitive herbs we're planting. Their magical properties would be severely compromised if the conditions aren't right. Honestly, Harry, this is first year Herbology stuff."

"Well then, why are we planting them, _Professor Black_?" Harry whined, looking over to where the adults were using magic to assist the sowing of less volatile seeds at various other points in the garden. Ever since having discovered the Muggle board game 'Clue' in the games cupboard, Harry had become particularly fixated on calling her 'professor' on account of the character she played.

"I can't tell you that; it's a surprise, _Mustard_" Estella reminded him, referring to the character he'd portrayed. "Anyway, bonehead, I played Professor _Plum_, not Black! How many times do I have to say it, there's no black piece in Clue!"

The last time they'd all played 'Clue', they'd each drawn a character card at random. After Remus' 'Miss Scarlet' and Tonks' 'Reverend Green' had Sirius suggestively quoting Hawthorne each time either made a move, they'd all taken to poking fun at each other's names. Even days after the fact, the banter continued… though Sirius was beginning to tire of the peacock analogies and had demanded a truce. Now, it was only Estella and Harry who kept it up… privately, of course, because neither could stand being called 'condiments' following Sirius' specifically themed dinner of Mustard Beef and Pork in Plum sauce. The teens were beginning to realise that it didn't take much for Sirius Black to twist things to suit his own unique brand of humour.

As for the garden's progress, so far only Sirius and Estella knew that all the gardening amounted to creating a harvesting ground for the ingredients for the Wolfsbane potion. Amazingly, the others had gone along with Estella's plan without asking any specific questions. Seeing Tonks about to trip over a shovel as she concentrated on hovering a pallet of bulbs in front of her, Estella leapt up. "Tonks! Watch out!"

In a display of lightning fast reflexes, Remus spun around and levelled his wand at the pallet, keeping it levitated as Tonks went crashing to the grass, breaking the spell. Beside her, Harry chuckled.

"They'd make a good pair." Harry sniggered.

Estella nodded distractedly to Harry, her attention swayed to the sight of her father darting away into the house. Narrowing her eyes, she muttered absently to herself. "I wonder what he's up to…"

"Huh?" Harry frowned.

"What?" Estella shook her head slightly and looked over at the Gryffindor in confusion. "You say something?"

"Forget it." Harry shook his head, rolling his eyes. "Thought you were talking to me."

"Oh," Estella brightened. "I was just wondering where Padfoot was off to."

"Probably gone inside to clean under his nails." said Harry, following Estella's line of sight. "I still can't believe he transformed and dug those holes with his paws."

"He's such a show off." Estella shook her head at the house fondly. "Always full of surprises, isn't he?"

"Yeah," Harry mused. "Like for one I'd never thought he'd actually sneak us off without Dumbledore knowing."

"Harry, he's a Marauder." Estella rolled her eyes at him and began to recite a well-worn phrase. "_Never_ put anything past a Marauder…"

"…and _never_ turn your back on one." Harry continued. "I know, I know."

"But yeah, I know what you mean." Estella said gravely. "It's something that we've been here a week and Dumbledore still doesn't know where we are."

"Did you hear he tried to track us using the mirrors?" Harry said lowly. "We shouldn't have left one behind…"

"Harry, our Dads created those things." Estella said reverently. "There's no 'tracking' them. Besides, by leaving one behind, we've given the old coot some peace of mind. Dad's been checking in late at night… so I think it's stopped Dumbledore from trying so hard to find us. Well, actually, I think it's more like Dad checks in so he'll be in less trouble when he gets back. Not that anyone can really hold him accountable for anything though. We haven't broken any laws."

"You don't think if he tried hard enough, he'd find us?" Harry furrowed his brow. "I mean he's Dumbledore. He'd have to be able to find us if he really wanted to."

"Dumbledore can't do everything, Harry." Estella said shortly. "If he could, we wouldn't be in this mess in the first place. Think about it."

Estella was, of course, referring to the Prophecy and the risk that hung over all their lives. Before Harry could respond, however, Sirius emerged from the house looking extremely happy with himself. Both Harry and Estella turned to watch the man as he pointed his wand at something, his lips moving soundlessly before music started emanating through the air. He'd brought out an old gramophone and charmed the sound to carry throughout the garden.

"Pity all we have for that old thing is prehistoric vinyl." Estella grimaced at the gaudy music.

Seeing his daughter's look, Sirius grinned broadly and shuffled over, his feet keeping in time with the music as he pretended to be dancing with someone. "Come on, it's not that bad." he said, reaching out for his daughter's hands. Pulling her up, he started spinning her around. "People used to dance to this all the time!"

"In what, the dark ages?" Estella drawled, giggling as her father bent her over in a dramatic dip to shut her up. "What _are_ you doing?"

"Why, dancing with you, of course!" Sirius spluttered, making to let go of her, but catching her before she fell to the floor.

"You'll have to forgive your uncivilised daughter, Sirius." Remus strolled over, pulling off his dragon-hide gloves and tucking them under one arm. "Estella's definition of 'dancing' is restricted to head banging and waving her arms around like a lunatic."

"Hey!" Estella protested, slapping her godfather's arm playfully. "You left out the part where there were thousands of Muggles there doing the exact same thing! So, if everyone was doing it, then it has to be a recognised dance form."

The beat of the music picked up, and Sirius began swinging his daughter around in an impromptu waltz, wincing as she stepped on his feet. "You've never done this before?"

"I've never had cause to." Estella shrugged. "But hey, I thought you would be happy about that fact."

"Why would I be happy?" Sirius looked confused for a moment before it hit him. For his daughter to have attended any one of Hogwarts' school dances at her age, she would have to of been asked by an older student. "Oh, well, yes. There is that."

Though Sirius had refrained from mentioning, he was inwardly surprised that his brother-in-law had not had Estella enrolled in finishing school from infancy. Growing up in a pureblood family himself, Sirius was more than familiar with the strict lessons in etiquette and 'traditional conduct'. Every summer until he finally got up the nerve to run away, _dancing_, had formed an integral part of his grooming. Shuddering inwardly at the memory of his cousin Bellatrix, who had been his partner during such instruction, Sirius made a note to owl Andromeda, the only Black sister he could ever tolerate.

"Harry," Remus threw in, changing the focus of the conversation. "You went to the last Yule Ball. You know how to dance, don't you?"

"Uh, kind of." Harry shrugged. "I'm not any good though."

"Well, what do you say, Moony?" Sirius spun Estella around so that he could look at his friend. "A lesson is in order!"

"But the gardening…" both children protested.

"Can wait." Sirius said, letting go of one of Estella's hands so he could pull his godson up. "Come on, where's your sense of adventure? We've got the weather, we've got the music… we've got the _whooole world, in our hands_!"

At that, Sirius fired a spell at the gramophone, causing the song to change to an arrangement with a distinctly more up-tempo beat. After convincing Remus that it was actually easier for students to learn the Quick-Step when dancing to a faster song, the impromptu lesson began. Unfortunately for Sirius, bad coordination seemed to run rife amongst the Black women. He was quickly beginning to regret not going with Remus' suggestion that they start with the Foxtrot.

"Ow!" Sirius leapt back, hopping on one foot as he grasped his abused shin in the other. "You kicked me again!"

"You wanted to teach the blasted Quick-Step!" Estella protested, frustrated at herself for not getting it right and worried about her Dad's legs at the same time. If her feet were starting to hurt, then she could only imagine the bruises her father would come out with. Whoever thought of a dance that involved the partners to kick between each other's legs without contact, must have not seen the damage it could do.

Harry too, was feeling the pain. Paired with Tonks, who, despite formal lessons in her youth was equally uncoordinated and out of step. Pausing to take a breath between sets, Sirius and Harry fell onto a garden bench to nurse their wounds. From his vantage point in the shade of the kitchen porch, Remus laughed at their pitiful moans and overdramatised limping.

"Can it, Moony." Sirius growled. "You'd be limping too if you were kicked repeatedly in the leg!"

"You're not exactly light on your feet either, _Padfoot_!" Estella said defensively, unwilling to take complete responsibility for their disastrous attempt.

Sirius looked down at his daughter's sorrowful face, and then caught his laughing friend's eye. He grinned. "Go dance with Moony, then," he said, squeezing her arm encouragingly and giving her a little nudge. "Compare."

As predicted, Remus stopped laughing immediately, and stood rigid as Estella approached him.

"What's the matter, Moony?" Sirius leered. "Are you afraid of the _big bad foot_?"

"Of course not." Remus scoffed, moving forward jerkily and accepting his goddaughter's hands. "I have every confidence that Estella will prosper under the guidance of proper tutelage."

Sirius snorted. "Yeah, whatever you say, Moony." He levelled his wand at the gramophone. "Ready?"

"Whenever you are, Mr Music."

Sure enough, both Estella and Remus got through the routine without stepping one foot out of place. Not tearing their eyes away from each other as they moved, it was as though they were of one mind; seemingly able to anticipate each other's actions. Ignoring their throbbing limbs, Sirius and Harry watched the pair, flabbergasted, while Tonks bounced up and down, clapping merrily. Through it all, child and godfather remained oblivious to their audience, not stopping to look at them until the song had finished.

"Wow! I did it!" Estella exclaimed, leaning over with her hands on her knees as she fought to catch her breath.

"Yes, yes you did." Remus applauded her, clapping a hand on her shoulder as he leant on her, seeking support as he waited for the world to stop spinning around him. Looking up at his friend, he added slyly. "What can I say, Sirius, I'm a good teacher."

"More like she had enough practice with me, she was bound to get it right this time round." Sirius pointed out, though a part of him was unnerved by the strange display. It was almost as though the two were connected at a subconscious level. Before he could even stop himself thinking it, Sirius began to feel jealous, but brushed it off hastily with a joke. "I'm sure she'll do just as well with me now that she's gotten it right once." he stood and reached out for her. "How's about it, kiddo?"

"Are you kidding?" Estella straightened up and leant into her godfather's side, exhausted. "I feel like I've just outrun a stampede of Unicorns. Give me a break!"

Deciding instead to indulge in an impromptu picnic under the shade of a blossoming fruit tree, they relaxed on the grass and drank chilled Butterbeer from the ice box. But that was not to say they were being idle, for they busied themselves extracting fruit directly from the tree above and eating it.

"Show off." Estella scoffed, taking a large bite from the piece of fruit in her hand. "Just because you can use your wand…"

Sirius pouted slightly at his daughter, but continued juggling the fruit in the air with his wand. Whilst Sirius plucked the tree of its fruit with his wand, Tonks cleaned it with hers, and Remus, sliced and distributed it. Mid-way through their antics, however, Remus dropped his wand, his attention caught elsewhere, causing several slices of fruit to fall.

"Remus!" Several voices called out in indignation.

Catching the deepening concern on his friend's face, Sirius frowned, his grip on his wand tightening. "Remus, what is it, my old friend?"

"Someone has entered the wards." Remus said hoarsely, his eyes fleeting over their under-aged wards in concern as he shut off the gramophone with an absent flick of his wand. "They Apparated to the ruins. I could just hear it over the music."

Whilst the nature of the wards ensured that all Muggles would be repelled from crossing into the property, wizards could still gain entrance. To protect the wayward traveller from crossing the path of a werewolf, only those invited by the guardian of the wards could transport themselves within sight of the villa. All other Portkeys or Apparations were redirected to the desolate site of the ruins in the hope that the impression of abandonment would deter further investigation. Magical wards aside, the property was descended from Muggle origins, and thus of little significance to the magical world. By all likelihood, any witch or wizard that stumbled across the property would do so only by accident.

"Someone has probably misspelled a Portkey or something." Harry shrugged.

"Harry, they Apparated." Sirius said lowly, rising to his feet, his body stiff and alert.

"Could just be a local student who bungled the destination on their Apparation test." Tonks supplied, though she too had risen to her feet, wand drawn. No one wanted to consider the alternatives.

Toying with the ring on her finger as though in deep concentration, Estella's eyes widened in realisation. Leaping to her feet, she smiled broadly. "It's all right." she assured them, tearing past them and setting off at a run towards the ruins.

"Estella!" Sirius cried out in alarm, reaching out to stop his daughter as she passed, but unable to catch her. Taking off after Estella, Remus hot on his heels, he yelled over his shoulder at Harry and Tonks. "Stay here! Hide in the caves until I return."

"But-" Harry leapt up, his hand gripped tightly around his own wand.

"No, Harry." Sirius pulled back and spun around, stopping his godson in his tracks as he tried to follow his godfather. "Do not follow. Do you understand? If you do not hear from us within the hour, Portkey back to London. You will be safe with Tonks."

Sensing from the tone of his godfather's voice, Harry knew better than to argue. Every minute he stopped to argue, was another moment Estella had unprotected. If, indeed, a malevolent force had happened upon them, neither she, nor Remus alone would be enough to stand against them.

Estella, meanwhile, was rapidly approaching the ruins, her feet negotiating the unleavened path with practiced ease. Ignoring her godfather's pleas as he struggled to catch up with her, she continued on until she came across a familiar form approaching them on the path.

"Uncle Sev!" she called out in welcome, getting the man's attention from where he had bowed to examine a patch of recently sowed Moonshade. "However did you find us? It was the ring you gave me, wasn't it? Its sister stone pointed its way, didn't it?"

"Why ever must you question that which you know the answer to?" Severus responded, his dark eyes travelling over his niece's form as though assessing her for signs of injury. "You are well?"

"Never better." Estella rolled her eyes and wrapped her arms around the imposing form of her uncle. "It's good to see you, Uncle Sev."

Severus returned the hug awkwardly, patting her on the shoulder jerkily before pulling away to look at his niece. With her father's aristocratic brow and mother's angular lines, Severus noted that his Estella's face had lost its childlike wonder. The events leading up to the previous Christmas had weathered themselves on the young girl's features, and if not for her stunted growth, she'd pass for someone much older. As it were, Estella barely reached the crook of his arm, and the neat braids on either side of her head betrayed any formidability her expressive face could convey. He could not deny, however, that despite the thinning face and the knowledgeable glint in her eyes, the child before him was happy. Looking down on her with an uncharacteristic fondness in his eye, he quickly masked his features into a smirk.

"You're a hard witch to find, Estella Black." he said.

"You're not…" Estella took a step back, aghast. "You're not here to take us back, are you?"

"If I were here for that, I would have come on the first day." Severus pointed out, grabbing her hand and splaying her fingers in his palm. Drawing attention to the ring on her finger, he gestured meaningfully. "I could have found you at any time. Remember that."

At that moment, Remus appeared over the crest of the hill and spotted them. Stopping dead in his tracks, the out-of-breath man's relief was imminent. "Estella! Don't do that!"

"What? I knew who it was." Estella shrugged, moving to stand alongside her uncle, her hand slipping into his own.

"Yes, well, tell us next time!" said Remus exasperatedly. "Hello, Severus."

"Lupin." Severus inclined his head, one hand dipping into his robes to pull out a sealed goblet. Offering it to the man with a sneer, he retracted his hand quickly as the sandy-haired man accepted the goblet with a shaky hand. "Your Wolfsbane."

"Why, thank you Severus." Remus regarded the tall dark form in bewilderment. "Though I must assure you, we did not come on this trip unprepared."

"You purchased a supply of Wolfsbane from a brewer in London." Severus recalled factually. Clearly the man had done his research. "You should know better than to trust the integrity of your sources. That potion would not have kept."

"Are you saying that the potion we purchased is useless?" Remus' eyes widened. "Thank you, then."

"You foolish Gryffindor." Severus scowled, one hand flying up to rest on his niece's shoulder, as though to hold her back from a potentially dangerous threat. "Why do you think I have insisted to oversee the production of your supply all these years? It would not do for you to endanger my niece, or go ahead and kill yourself with an inferior poison and upset her."

"So…so you did not come here to bring us back?" Remus' feature dawned with realisation. "You are not here on Dumbledore's orders?"

"He could have come at any time, couldn't you have Uncle Sev?" Estella looked to the man in question, who nodded tersely.

"Well, on behalf of us all, let me thank you for exercising such discretion." Remus smiled appreciatively at his unlikely ally, before turning his attention to an approaching disturbance behind him.

"Estella! Remus!" Sirius voice called out in the distance, steadily getting closer. Severus hastily let his niece's hand in his drop as he steeled himself for his brother-in-law's appearance.

Turning back to look at his goddaughter from where she hadn't left her uncle's side, Remus nodded in understanding. "I'll head him off." he said. "We'll head back and give Tonks and Harry the all clear. Severus, you're more than welcome to join us for lunch. Thanks again for the potion."

Severus nodded slightly, uncle and niece watching as the nimble-footed man turned on his heel and darted off in the direction from whence he came. Pulling him by the sleeve of his robe, Estella tugged her uncle towards the patches of garden she'd cultivated alongside the path.

"You know, you really ought to transfigure yourself something cooler to wear." Estella suggested as she pointed out various seedlings, seeking his approval. "You must be awfully hot in those long sleeves."

"Estella," Severus pulled his hand away from where Estella was attempting to roll up his sleeve. "You know very well that I cannot expose my arms."

"Oh, come on, Uncle Sev." Estella frowned. "If not amongst friends, then when?"

"Estella." Severus spun on his niece and gripped her shoulder firmly. Giving her a slight shake, he fought to keep his derision in check. "The Mark of the Dark Lord is not something I wish to draw attention to, no matter the company."

Never mind that he hardly considered the company of the likes of Black, Lupin and especially Potter, as being amongst 'friends'.

"Why?" Estella frowned. "Everyone knows…"

"I will not answer to you." Severus let go of her and stalked away. "Do not question that which you cannot understand."

"Then make me understand, Uncle Severus." Estella put her hands on her hips and commanded her uncle shrilly. "Are you ashamed, is that it?"

"Do not try me, child." Severus rounded on his niece and leant over her, invading her personal space menacingly. Schooling his features into a mask of indifference, he took a step back coolly and sneered. "A week on vacation with such unsavoury characters has rendered you uncouth. I will forgo this private indiscretion, but be warned, Estella, that I will not tolerate such presumptuousness in public. Do you hear me?"

"Yes, Uncle Sev." Estella grumbled, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. Turning away from the garden bed, she looked down the path that led back to the house. "Come on, there ought to be enough ground between us now. You are staying for lunch, are you not?"

"Regrettably." said Severus drolly. By way of explanation, he added. "I have matters to discuss with your father."

"I thought you said you weren't here on Dumbledore's orders!" Estella's eyes narrowed.

"I am not here to do the man's bidding." Severus confirmed. "Be that as it may, I come bearing a thinly veiled message."

Estella snorted. "So you mean Dumbledore knew you knew how to find me, but knew he couldn't get you to act on it, right?"

Severus regarded his niece with a piercing look, and nodded. "It was he who informed me of Lupin's dealings with the underhanded potions supplier. He knew that it would force my hand." he gestured lazily. "I fully anticipate to be questioned at length upon my return."

"And your verdict?" Estella tilted her head to the side, faltering in her step.

"You're alive, I note." said Severus dryly. "That tells me all I need to know."

* * *

Lunch, with their unexpected houseguest proved to be a terse, interesting affair. After a tour of the property, enthusiastically led by his niece, Severus sat down at the humble kitchen table and shared in their staple fare of cold meats and salads. With the full moon just three days away, discussion of the werewolf's plans to keep the children safe occupied a majority of the meal, followed shortly by the runaway traveller's plans for their safe return to civilization.

As the two Marauders had planned in advance, Moony and Padfoot were to spend the full moon out in a clearing on the far side of the property whilst the children remained safely indoors under the watchful eye of Tonks. Then, two days following the cursed man's monthly transformation, the party would depart for London, going directly to Diagon Alley to collect the teenager's school supplies. It was mutually agreed that all accompanying adults would need to be fully alert and able to protect the teenagers in public.

"Dumbledore will not be pleased." Severus intoned, the corners of his lips threatening to turn into a satisfied smirk before he commanded control of his features. "He would expect you to return directly to headquarters for debriefing."

"Which is precisely why we are going directly to Diagon Alley." said Sirius smugly. "So, Estella tells me you have business you wish to discuss?"

"It would not be prudent for the children to be present." Severus narrowed his eyes at each minor in turn, causing a pair of grey eyes to roll at him and a green set to narrow in suspicion. "Oh do not concern yourself Potter, with theories of collusion and conspiracy. You will both be discovering the nature of our discussion before the hour is through."

"Then why can't we stay?" Estella pouted. Of all the people present in the Death Eater's company, Estella was by far the most comfortable and unaffected. Seeing her uncle's scathing look, she repented. "Never mind. Harry, c'mon, let's go for a swim."

"Not so soon after eating." Remus reminded them.

"Fine." Estella huffed, pausing in the doorway and looking back at the adults as they huddled around the table. Harry surveyed the situation and followed in her wake. "We'll go finish up our summer homework then, won't we Harry?"

"Uh, yeah." Harry muttered, suddenly keen to get as far away from his least favourite member of Hogarts' staff. "We'll be upstairs."

No sooner had the steps of the teenagers faded up the stairs, did Sirius and Remus exchange a look.

"We'd better cast an Impenetrable Charm."

* * *

"What do you mean?" Harry recoiled upon hearing their decision to have Snape teach him Occlumency once school returned. "Can't anyone else teach me?"

"I think you will find, Harry," Remus said, casting a warning look at an indignant looking Sirius, "that any issues that exist between yourself and Professor Snape will pale in comparison to the conditions of being in Voldemort's company."

"So you mean having to learn how to guard my mind against Snape will be good practice for doing the same against Voldemort?" Harry sighed, knowing within himself that such conditions will prepare him well.

The adults nodded. Estella, in turn, looked from the remissive look on the faces of her guardians and nodded more convincingly. "They're right, you know Harry." she threw in. "He's one of very few people who can attest to shielding their minds against the Snark Lord on a regular basis. Not even Dumbledore has experienced the prat's skills as a Legilimens so frequently."

"Doesn't mean he has to like the idea." Sirius scowled, clearly not happy with the idea of his godson being dependent on his childhood nemesis. Though an amnesty of sorts had seen the two men able to coexist in a room without undue tension for Estella's sake, that consideration was not extended to the son of his departed best friend. Blinking at his daughter as though she had just entered the room, a thought struck him. "Oh yeah," he added. "Your uncle wishes to see you in the garden before he departs."

Severus, meanwhile, stood rigidly on the edge of the garden, his hands firmly clasped behind his back as he stood with his back to the house. Upon hearing his niece's approach, he whirled around, wand at the ready.

"Whoa!" Estella raised her hands in defeat. "Jumpy, much?"

"Estella, I would have liked to have thought that it would take more than just a summer with Potter to render you incapable of constructing sentences." Severus leered at his niece before turning his attention back at the recently completed garden bed. "I see you are attempting to cultivate the ingredients for the Wolfsbane Potion."

"You're the only one who's figured that out!" Estella exclaimed, chewing on her bottom lip. Her father had known of her plan before she'd started planting. No one else had managed to identify the one potion all of the ingredients had in common. "So, um, what do you think? Will they grow?"

"You have chosen the locations well." Severus confirmed, inwardly delighting in the way his approval made the child's face light up with accomplishment. "Provided the gardens are adequately maintained, I see no reason for the plants not to flourish. Who have you gotten to spell the irrigation charms?"

"We've not gotten to that yet." Estella informed him. "We're still working out the vermin-repelling charms and such. Things would be working so much faster if I could use my wand, but, well, you get that."

"I will see that it is done on my way out." Severus vowed. "It would not do for your hard work to be undone by poorly executed wand work."

"Thank you, Uncle Sev!" Estella beamed, throwing her arms around the man's waist in gratitude. Pulling back slightly as the man patted her head in his own aloof expression of affection; Estella looked up at her uncle in concern. "What's wrong?"

"Whatever do you mean?" Severus retorted stiffly, his body tensing reflexively.

"You look tired." Estella said. "Weary. I hope you haven't been worrying about me. Don't you trust Dad and Remus to keep me in one piece?"

"What?" he snapped, shaking his head at her deductive ability.

"Well, if not that, then what?" she demanded.

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with, child." Severus dismissed her. Gesturing to his left forearm suggestively, he added lowly. "I've been occupied with certain unsavoury business."

"Oh." Estella latched onto said arm protectively, as though her grasp alone would tear the Dark Mark from his skin. "I do wish you were not in such danger."

"I said nothing of danger." Severus assured her, his mind elsewhere.

Making their way towards the Apparition point, Severus casting the appropriate irrigation charms as they went, the pair made small talk.

"So where did you come from today?" Estella looked up at her uncle curiously. "You don't seem as tense as you were when you arrived."

Looking down at his last living relative, Severus found himself warmed by her genuine interest in his life. Of everyone he reported to, the child before him was the only person who actually cared for _him_, and not just the cost his loss would impose upon the war effort. Similarly, Severus felt that he could not censor his disclosure as appropriately as he supposed he should do in front of a child so young.

"I had business to attend to at Spinner's End." he explained vaguely.

"Why do I get the impression you've been roped into something you hadn't bargained on?" Estella narrowed her eyes.

"Because you are remarkably perceptive." Severus drawled, somewhat comforted by his niece's company. Being with her filled him with a sense of renewed purpose.

"What's Spinner's End?" Estella asked suddenly once they were a little further down the path. While they had been talking, they had been unconsciously headed towards the Apparation point.

"A family property on my father's side." Severus explained absently. "You are not familiar with it."

"Why not?" Estella halted in her step, causing her uncle to turn back slightly. "I thought you showed me all of the family homes?"

"Those on my mother's side, yes." Severus admitted. "You would not wish to step foot in my father's family home. It is… not very pleasant."

"So Snape Manor is from your mother's family? How can that be?" Estella was confused. She had been inclined to point out to her uncle the _pleasantries _to be found at the Grimmauld Place address the first time she'd gone _there_, but had refrained herself from making the comparison.

"Estella, Grimmauld Place is passed on from your grandmother's family in much the same way." Severus pointed out patiently. "When a woman enters into a marriage with a dowry of property, those estates become known by her husband's name."

"So you mean to say that if I get married, my father's home which will be passed on to me will form part of my husband's estate?" Estella screwed her nose up in contempt.

"Of course." said Severus simply. "Why else do you suppose so many families yearn for a male heir?"

Estella scowled, muttering her dissent towards such chauvinistic practices. At the mention of her maternal grandmother, she was filled with a renewed sense of curiosity, but knew better than to broach the subject just as her uncle were leaving. She didn't even have a photograph of her grandmother to speak of, and knew more of her father's parents from his mother's infamous portrait than any of her other ancestors combined. Though she was far from obsessed with her lineage like some of her puristic peers would be, Estella could not help but wonder.

"So what did you want to see me about anyway?" she said, her defensive tone mirroring the simmering frustration within as it threatened to spill over.

Looking at her strangely, Severus' eyes hardened. "Do not take that tone with me, Estella." he said levelly. "Is it so wrong for me to want us to part ways without an audience?"

"I'll be seeing you in a week, Uncle Sev." Estella rolled her eyes. "Though if you wanted a send-off, you need only have asked."

"You're incorrigible." said Severus. "I don't know why I persist so."

"Because you _love me_." Estella teased, as though making fun of the idea of the great Severus Snape ever loving anyone. "Admit it."

A comfortable silence passed over them, and Severus said nothing.

"Or don't deny it." Estella shrugged, unfazed. "Suit yourself."

"I will likely see you at the Opening Feast, if not before." Severus said in parting, turning to face her as he stepped back, preparing to Apparate. Stepping forward decisively at the last moment, he pointed his wand at Estella's neck. Trusting him implicitly, Estella's reaction was confined to a curious arch of a brow. A muttered spell and a slight tap to her pendant, and he was done.

Waving his hand at his niece dismissively, he addressed her unasked question. "I took the liberty of turning your pendant into a Portkey."

Grasping the offending piece of jewellery in indignation, Estella's jaw fell open. "A Portkey?" she cried. "To where?"

"Grimmauld Place." Severus informed her. "It will respond to the password '_Sanctuary'_."

"What, no tapping it three times and saying 'there's no place like home'?" said Estella sarcastically, chuckling dryly at the look of confusion on her uncle's face. Shaking the Muggle reference out of her head, she frowned in all manner of seriousness. "But I never take my pendant off! What if I use the password in everyday speech?"

"A hand will need to be fully clasped around the stone at the time of incantation for it to activate." Severus informed her. "Say the word now, if you do not believe me."

"And Portkey myself back into Dumbledore's clutches?" Estella raised a brow in challenge. Seeing her uncle's exasperated look, she added hastily. "Don't worry, I trust you. I was just messing with you."

"Very well." Severus nodded, shaking his head slightly at the unsavoury influence her father's approach to life was having on his niece. "Do not hesitate to use it if need arises, understand me?"

"Yes, Uncle Sev." said Estella drolly.

"I mean it, Estella. No _heroics_." Severus looked at her intently, cringing at the implication that his niece could even consider distinctly Gryffindor behaviour. "You will be better served using the Portkey to where help can be summoned expediently."

"I understand, Uncle Sev." Estella patted his arm in assurance. "See you in a week. I'll be in one piece, I swear."

Nodding at her in acknowledgement, Severus increased the distance between them. Closing his eyes in concentration, he took a deep breath and was gone in a resounding crack. The further a wizard Apparated, the louder the disturbance. Knowing that the noise would have been heard from the house Estella tore her eyes away from the spot where her uncle had stood not a moment earlier and set off down the path towards the house. If she dawdled, she knew they would start to think her uncle had spirited her away.

* * *

The following few days were spoiled by an out-of-season downpour. The holiday-makers were thereby confined indoors.

"I'm sorry about the weather, kids." Remus apologised yet again as though he were somehow responsible for the forecast.

Looking up from where they laid sprawled on the rugs in the small study, the teenagers put down their pencils. After innumerable games of Exploding Snap, Chess and Gobstones, and after swimming their fill in the underground spring, the pair had taken to colouring an old collection of Muggle colouring books to pass the time.

"Do we look bored, Moony?" Estella questioned the reticent man, throwing a pencil at him. "You should be off apologising to Padfoot. He's the one who has been moping about the house like a lost puppy without a bone."

"I just can't believe you kids are getting so much enjoyment out of colouring." Remus squatted down on his haunches to look down at the teenager's handiwork. "At your age!"

"So?" Estella arched a brow at her godfather. "_Some _of us," she said pointedly, looking at Harry, "were deprived of the simpler things in our youth."

"Oh yes, well, you're doing very well." Remus nodded awkwardly at the two children. Stretching to his full height once again, he looked around searchingly. "I am still amazed that they were still around after all these years."

The colouring books in question had been in the cupboard of the main room, on hand for a young Remus to pass the time immediately after a Full Moon. "Well since you're all right," he shuffled uneasily on his feet and gestured towards the kitchen. "I may go see if Tonks needs any help with dinner."

Since their arrival, the group had taken it in turns to prepare the meals. Because they could not use magic, Harry and Estella were paired together, whilst the adults worked independently. After many years catering to his unappreciative Muggle relatives, and Estella's conditioned precision in potions, the teenagers were equally competent at the task. As for the adults, though nothing bad could be said about either of the Marauder's efforts in the kitchen, Tonks, more often than not, required assistance.

Almost on cue, a loud crash could be heard from the kitchen, followed by a signature yell. "I'm all right! I'm all right!" Tonks called out. "Dinner will be a little late. No catastrophes!"

Not moving from their place in front of the hearth, the dark-haired teenagers rolled their eyes at each other and laughed as Remus stumbled over his feet in his haste to back out of the room.

"I'm so gonna miss this." Harry said flippantly as he reminisced openly about the comfortable familiarity he felt within this unusual family dynamic.

Beside him, Estella sighed and nodded. Their time in the French countryside was so refreshing… so long as they stayed within the grounds, the outside world couldn't touch them. They were safe. There was no worrying about prophecies or school or war. Going back to Hogwarts for the first time since Voldemort's rising was something neither teenager was looking forward to. Those that believed the news would surely look upon them as fabled survivors, whilst those who chose to live in closeted denial would regard them with fanciful contempt.

* * *

The afternoon of the full moon was filled with an inexplicable feeling of foreboding. Estella didn't know if it were on account of the new surrounding or the wet and grey climate of the past few days, but the thought of her father and godfather spending the night outside filled her with unease. Specifically, her concern that the earth directly above the complex cave system that riddled the estate was too soft after the rains to be safe. Not all the cavities were carved in rock. The clearing in question had only been surveyed from the air, and Estella could not understand why they could not spend the duration of the transformation somewhere more known to them.

"We've already been through this, Estella." Sirius sighed. "I understand you're feeling anxious, but just about every transformation while Remus was at Hogwarts was spent out in the Forbidden Forest."

"So why can't you spend the night in the old vineyard?" Estella argued.

"It's too wild. Impassable. The vines have rotted away." Sirius pointed out. "There's not enough room to move in a hurry."

"Fine. But why not stay undercover in the caves?" Estella persisted. "What if it rains all night in that clearing? You'll get sick!"

"We've spent the full moon in the rain plenty of times, cub." Remus assured his goddaughter. "Moony and Padfoot's coats offer some protection from the elements."

"But _why_ can't you-"

"I've already told you, Estella," said Sirius in a low tone. "The caves are not safe whilst in animal form. What if we squeeze through gaps that we haven't sealed yet, and Moony turns back on the other side? How will he get back then?"

"Well stay in one place, then!" Estella snapped. "You have your Wolfsbane, Remus! You'll be of mind to control where you go and what you do."

"Which is why we'll be fine in the clearing." Remus pointed out. "Come on, sweetheart, you know the transformations go smoother when I am within sight of the moon."

Estella sighed. Her godfather was right. The matter of his childhood transformations in windowless environments had been a topic of recent discussion. The less he saw of the moon, the longer the transformation took, and though the Wolfsbane alleviated some of the discomfort, the process was not entirely pain free.

"I just wish we'd been able to _walk_ through the clearing beforehand." she sighed.

"Estella," Remus took a deep breath. It wasn't that he was losing patience; he was just consciously aware of the time and wanted the issue resolved before he had to leave. "As far as the wolf is concerned, you are my cub." He shot Sirius an awkward look who nodded for him to go on. "When I ingest the Wolfsbane Potion before the transformation, I can suppress most all of the wolf's instincts." He sighed. "All except those instincts that are already present."

"What this inarticulate lump is trying to say, Estella," Sirius cut in. "Is that Moony pines for you."

"Huh?" Estella's eyes widened. "Wait, you-you-you-"

Shooting a glare at his blunt friend, Remus stepped forward and rested his hands on Estella's shoulders. "It's not as bad as your idiot father makes out," he assured her, his thumbs reaching up to stroke the sensitive point below her ear soothingly. "When the wolf can smell your scent nearby, but cannot see where you are, he worries. Even with the Wolfsbane it starts to play on my sensibilities."

"Oh, Uncle Remus!" Estella rolled her eyes as she leant into the man's touch. Though it surprised Estella to hear of this only now, she supposed that Remus had only had cause to realise it in recent years. She had been almost ten before she'd stayed overnight with him or spent any considerable amount of time outside of Hogwarts and the immediately surrounding areas.

"You know the ironic thing is, if I were to run into Moony without the potion I'd be toast." Remus' hands flinched on her neck and Estella gasped in remorse. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"It's okay, cub." Remus collected himself and sighed, leaning down and resting his forehead on her head. "I know you didn't mean anything by it. Try not to worry so much, all right? We'll be back before you wake up."

At that, Remus kissed the top of his goddaughter's head and backed off towards the door. "Sirius, I'll go fetch the brooms and meet you outside."

Nodding after his conscientious friend, Sirius assumed Remus' position in front of Estella. Wrapping her into a warm embrace, he lifted her off her feet and nuzzled her neck in his enthusiasm. Smothered by her father's chest as he held her to him firmly, Estella protested. "I can't breathe!" her muffled voice screeched. "Gerroff me, you big oaf! It's too hot!"

"I'm sorry…" said Sirius obliviously, turning to Harry who had walked in to see what the hold up was. "Harry, did you hear something?"

"I think Estella was trying to say something." Harry pointed out, trying not to laugh.

"Oh?" said Sirius as he put his daughter down and loosened his grip. "Well speak up then, kiddo! We can't very well hear you when you mumble like that."

"I wasn't mumbling!" Estella scowled moodily. "Harry, remind me again why I care so much about this great lump?"

"Beats me." Harry smirked, making sure he was well away from the man in question as he retorted.

"Hey!" Sirius protested, pouting playfully. Noting the shadow of his friend in the early dusk light, he sobered. "All right, I'm going to head off. Estella, don't worry so much. Moony and I will take care of each other. You just concentrate on looking out for Harry and Tonks."

"Okay, okay." said Estella, shooing her father out the door.

The kitchen was suddenly quieter without the presence of the two remaining Marauders. While Harry busied himself pulling some frozen yogurt from the icebox, Estella pulled herself up on the counter, watching pensively out the window as the flying forms of her father and godfather flew over the ridge of dilapidated vines towards the clearing.

Having shown a vested interest in werewolves from a very young age, Estella knew that the temperament of a werewolf borrowed traits from its human host. A werewolf like Moony, for instance, would be unlikely to attack out of malice. Instead, he would be inclined to infect people close to the human so as to expand his 'pack'. Likewise, the untamed Moony would kill any established threat quickly, rather than toying with his prey mercilessly, or making them one of his own.

"Planet Earth to Estella, come in, Estella…" Harry waved his hand in front of her face, causing her eyes to snap back into focus to see Harry waving a tub of frozen yogurt at her. "Want one?"

"Uh, yeah, sure." Estella accepted the small tub and spoon gratefully with one hand, the other leaning over to rub the condensation off the window with her sleave. When had night fallen? "It's so bizarre that even through the rain, it can still be hot."

"Yeah." Harry jumped up onto the counter next to Estella and followed her gaze out the window. "Don't worry, they'll be fine."

"What?" Estella forced her eyes away and stabbed her spoon at her dessert in search of a distraction. "Yeah, I'm sure they will be."

"What were you thinking about?" Harry asked, clutching at straws as he tried to keep up the conversation. Though he'd never really been in such close quarters with Estella, he'd noticed from afar that she was habitually down around the time of the full moon.

"Just something Moony said." said Estella dismissively. Looking at the boy's eyes directly, she confided in him. "I just keep thinking back to the time I ran into Moony before he had his potion… and I can't seem to imagine that there are werewolves out there that are deliberately more vicious by nature."

"I surely wouldn't want to run into one in the dark." Harry shuddered, absently spooning an overly large mouthful of yogurt into his mouth. "Ah, brain freeze!"

"Don't shovel so much in your mouth at once, then, bonehead." Estella shook her head at his behaviour and jumped off the counter. Spinning on the wincing boy suddenly, she gathered a small chunk of frozen fruit on her spoon and flicked it at him at close range, hitting him square on the nose.

"Hey!" Harry protested, arming his own spoon and firing back, his clump of frozen dairy product melting almost as soon as it landed on Estella's hair. Slinking from his seat on the counter with an almost predatory grace, he began circling Estella, the table between them. "You know what this means, don't you?"

"War!" Estella spotted a half-eaten box of Bertie Bots Every-Flavour Beans and palmed a handful, throwing them at him strategically whilst making the sounds of rapid gunfire.

"What is going on here?" Tonks screeched, emerging from her sleep-out bedroom, her arms laden with pillows and bedclothes as she prepared to sleep in the main house for the night. Before either teen could answer, she slipped on some melted yoghurt on the floor, sending pillows and sheets flying as she reached for something to break her fall.

While two sets of hands reflexively lunged to catch the clumsy Metamorphagus by the arms, pulling her up before she cracked her head open on the stone, they were not quick enough to prevent her from landing on her ankle heavily.

"Ow!" Tonks pulled herself up to her full height and grimaced in pain. Quickly flanked by two apologetic teenagers, she was assisted as she limped towards a kitchen chair. "What have you two been doing in here?"

"Um, food fight." Estella admitted sheepishly. "We didn't realise it was getting slippery, did we Harry?"

"No, sorry Tonks." Harry rubbed the back of his neck in remorse. "The yogurt must have melted."

Tonks removed her hands from their shoulders as she made herself comfortable in the chair and rubbed the stickiness off on the cuffs of her shorts. "You guys should get a look at yourself. You're all sticky."

Slipping into the 'mother-hen' role, Estella was quick to take charge of the situation. Grabbing an ice tray from the icebox and emptying it into a clean dishcloth she sat on the kitchen table next to where Tonks had elevated her injured ankle and surveyed the damage.

"It looks sprained." Estella observed sympathetically, gently resting the makeshift icepack against the rapidly swelling flesh. "Are you in pain? Harry, could you please fetch me my Potions kit? I should have a standard reliever in there."

Watching Harry leave, leaving a trail of sticky yogurt footprints in his wake, Tonks turned her attention to her ankle. "I could just heal it." she said. "My wand should be somewhere amongst all those pillows I dropped."

Gesturing for Tonks to hold the ice over her ankle, Estella hopped off the table and recovered Tonks' wand from the mass of blankets on the floor and handed it to Tonks, handle first.

"You do know the spell, right?" Estella asked, shifting her weight from one foot to another. Seeing the Auror's hesitation, her own unease increased. "Um, you know, maybe you should cast a diagnostic spell first, just in case it is broken or something."

"You're right." said Tonks, pulling her wand back from where she had about to tap her ankle with it. "I wouldn't want to foul up. Moody didn't get his wooden leg until he was much farther into his career."

"You don't know the spell, do you?" Estella chewed her bottom lip between her teeth as Tonks faltered with her wand. Estella knew a spell that would allow a person to bear weight on an injured limb. She'd used it on herself one time when she'd twisted her own ankle and had wanted to get away from her Godfather; whom she had been seething mad at. Subsequently, she'd learnt from that experience that it was not a good idea to use the spell because the body created pain for a reason. Estella remembered with a wince how she'd cast the spell and continued running. Luckily in her case she'd only twisted her ankle slightly, for had the injury been anything like Tonks', she'd have done permanent damage to her ligaments. In hindsight, Auror Potter had likely deployed a similar spell on his mangled leg that day in Hogsmeade. It would have been the only way for the man to continue fighting upright, and just look what had happened in his case – she was told he walked with a limp for the rest of his life. Shaking the memory from her mind, Estella glanced at Tonks in question.

"I kinda bungled basic first aid in Auror training." Tonks smiled ruefully. "I spent most of the time playing the part of the patient."

Flicking her eyes over Tonks' current predicament, Estella's lips curled. "I couldn't possibly imagine that," she said sarcastically. Hearing Harry thundering back down the stairs, she took an assertive stance. "Well, since neither Harry nor I can use magic outside of school then, I guess the best we can do is give you something for the pain and try to reduce the swelling. I think there's a potion for that in my kit… I tend to keep it pretty well stocked, but I haven't really been paying it much mind this summer, cause, well, you know…"

"Your father is absolutely going to kill me." Tonks frowned. "It will not do well for me to be in this state if something bad were to happen."

"Don't be like that." Estella patted her cousin's knee encouragingly, gesturing with her head at Harry as he entered, wordlessly motioning for him to set her case down on the table. "Maybe after we get the swelling down it won't be so bad. You might only have twisted it."

"I couldn't tell which one was the vial you wanted." Harry said breathlessly. "So I brought down the case."

"It's okay." Estella nodded appreciatively, rummaging through the case and extracting a number of vials. Holding them up against the light one by one, she studied them closely. "Merlin, I hope they haven't spoiled." she swirled one vial to unsettle the contents before uncorking it and wafting it under her nose. "Smells all right," she said. She studied the colour again. "The colour is consistent. Preservation charms must have held."

"Preservation charms?" Tonks looked at her cousin uneasily. "Just how old are those potions?"

"Well I made them before summer." Estella said, unable to pinpoint the exact date. "But yeah, the vials are charmed to keep the contents fresh."

"You mean these are preservation vials?" Harry picked one up gingerly, his jaw falling slightly open. "They're rather expensive. I thought only professionals used them?"

"Not necessarily." Estella confirmed. "I mean yes, they are costly, but anyone can use them. Well, correction, you aren't allowed to use them in class-"

"Why not?" Harry cut in.

"Well because you could switch the potion you made for a potion you bought in one of these vials." Estella picked up one of the vials and jiggled it in front of Harry's face in emphasis. "Duh."

"Then why did you sniff it like that?" Harry looked at her suspiciously.

"Because you should never depend on foolish wand-play and silly incantations in potions." Estella stated as though it were obvious. Then, as though humoured by her own private joke, she chuckled. Seeing the confused looks on her company's faces, she elaborated. "I'm sorry, I was just thinking how ironic it is that it was my uncle of all people who got me these vials in the first place."

"Well good thing he did." Tonks said, her patience frayed a little by her pain. "Which of these should I be taking?"

"Oh, sorry Tonks." Estella shook her head at her distractedness and held out a vial. "Here, this one should reduce the swelling. If memory serves me correctly it needs to take effect before I can give you anything for the pain. The ingredients will be counterproductive otherwise."

"All right." Tonks said trustfully, accepting the uncorked vial and downing it in one strangled gulp. Screwing her nose up in distaste, she spluttered. "The fouler the taste, the faster the effect, right?"

"So some say." Estella confirmed, recognising the well-worn adage. Checking her watch and counting down patiently, she watched as the potion went to work. "Okay, I'd say it's safe to give you this one now; but what's say we set you up somewhere more comfortable first?"

Tonks nodded and Harry suggested the lounge in the study. Once settled, Estella administered the second potion. Frowning down at her bona fide patient she leant back, her work done.

"What's wrong?" Tonks asked her.

"I was just thinking how much better it would be if I could just use my wand." Estella mused.

"Don't worry about that now." Tonks assured her. "That potion is already working wonders, and look, the swelling is gone. You did great."

"I wasn't thinking of that." Estella smirked, eyeing Harry. "I was thinking more along the lines of how much longer it will take us to clean up the kitchen without magic. We had been labouring under the misapprehension that we would have a fully-trained witch on hand to wave her wand about effortlessly."

Tonks laughed. "Well, let this be a lesson to you." she shooed them off towards the kitchen. "You'd better get a start on it if you hope to sleep at all tonight."

Once they got down to it, however, the kitchen was clean in record time. Of course, a critical eye would likely come across splotches of dairy product in unlikeliest of places for days, weeks, months to come, but there were just some places a non-magical sponge could not reach. Exhausted after the fact, the pair cooled off with an ice treat and headed straight off to bed.

Over the course of their stay, the front airy bedroom that the teenagers had come to call their own no longer resembled the plain expanse of space it had been upon their arrival. On one of her frequent trips to the closest village, Tonks had made a point of bringing back bags upon bags of local home wares. The teen's room, in particular, had benefited the most from the enthusiastic Metamorphagus' expeditions, with a wide assortment of wall hangings and quirky little ornaments scattered around the room.

"I can't believe I agreed to this." Harry emerged from behind his privacy screen and flopped onto the top of his sheets, sighing as his head sunk into the soft down of his pillow. "This place is beginning to resemble Trelawney's classroom!'

"Hey!" cried Estella, throwing one of the many scatter cushions that littered the floor at her roommate. "I resent that! I'll have you know I have much better taste than that woman!" she picked up another cushion and shook it at him in emphasis. "I may like having a soft place to land, but I'm not as cheap and tacky as that!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Harry yawned and rolled over to face her fully. "I was just foolin'."

"Good." Estella nodded in approval and settled down on her matching twin bed. At first, they had tried to inject their own unique personalities into the room by splitting the space in half and reigning exclusive control on their own share, but after living with the results for a few days they had decided on a compromise. Though Harry made the occasional comparison to the decorating ability of the likes of Trelawney and Snape, both teenagers were equally pleased with how their cohabited quarters turned out.

"G'night." Harry mumbled, tossing his glasses onto the bedside table between their beds.

Estella was halfway through returning the gesture when the distant howl of a wolf caught her attention. "There's Moony," she said, her brow furrowing in thought as the howling persisted.

"Noisy sod tonight, isn't he?" Harry groaned, pulling his pillow over his ears. "Mustn't be too happy about being out in the rain, hey?"

"That's not it." Estella sat up abruptly, an alarmed look on her face. Swinging her legs off the bed, she turned and faced Harry. "He only howls when he's calling. Something must be wrong."

"Relax, Estella! Moony and Padfoot are probably singing in the rain, or something equally dense." said Harry dismissively, though he too sat up, if only to be at Estella's level.

"No, no, no!" Estella shook her head in refusal and stood, her hands reaching for Harry to pull him out of bed. "He's getting more insistent, listen! It's a call for help!"

"Estella, we can't go out there." Harry paused, "and Tonks…"

"Do I look like I care?" snapped Estella, glaring at him slightly with one brow raised in defiance. "Either you're with me, or you're not."

"I'm with you, of course." replied Harry without hesitation.

Estella, however, gave him a decisive look. Shoving him back down on his bed as he tried to stand, she shook her head. "On second thought, maybe you'd better stay." she said quickly, cutting him off before he could protest with a raised hand. "You're far too important. It could be a trap."

"Yes, but I'm older…" Harry pointed out. He had gone to point out that he was also a male, but he didn't want to open that can of worms.

"You're also on the Ministry's radar after that incident with the Dementors." Estella pointed out logically. "Last thing you need is another charge of under-aged magic on your record. They won't be as lenient with you again, Harry, and you need to finish your education."

"So? So do you!"

"Yes, but I have a clean record." said Estella. "And if worse comes to worse, two members of my family have teaching experience and a third is brilliant at Transfiguration."

"So what do you suppose we do?" Harry dodged Estella's efforts to keep him in bed by rolling off the other side. "You can't expect me to just sit here and twirl my wand while _that_- " he pointed in the direction of Moony's howls "- is going on!"

Sighing as she collapsed on the edge of her bed, Estella rubbed her temples. Her hand instinctively travelling to her pendant, she formulated a plan. "Listen," she said, gesturing to her pendant. "My uncle charmed this into an emergency Portkey. If I activate it, I will go to Grimmauld Place… and I'll do it if there's any danger, okay?"

"But what do I do?" asked Harry.

"Keep Tonks distracted." Estella said. "She's undoubtedly awake now… and I'll, um, send up green sparks every minute for the all-clear and red if we need to bolt. If you don't see anything for five, use the mirror."

"Right, so I'll wait in the kitchen, okay?" Harry gestured, heading towards the door.

Holding back slightly, Estella evaluated her potions supply – her case hastily discarded, open, on the dresser after being brought back upstairs. Making a mental note of deficiencies and possible needs before the night was through, she clasped the case closed and indicated for Harry to unpack his potions equipment. "I may need you to make a start on some potions," she said hesitantly. "I used all the anti-swelling potion and pain-relievers on Tonks. Hopefully, we won't need it, but I have a feeling Moony would only be this persistent if… if… if…" her voice trailed off and her shoulders slumped.

Seeing the fear on her face, Harry turned back and braced his shorter friend's shoulders.

"I'm sure he's fine." Harry assured her. "Sirius is made of tougher stuff than to let a little weather to get to him."

Slumping her shoulders tiredly, Estella leant forward and rested her head under Harry's chin. Exhaling a long, slow breath, she gathered her resolve before straightening herself up. Meeting Harry's eyes with a newfound determination on her face, Estella nodded briskly and headed for the stairs. Once down in the kitchen, Estella flung open the cellar door and rushed down the stairs without a backward glance. The map in her hands may only have been partially completed, but from what she could gather, her father was somehow underground. Intentionally leaving the cellar door open, Estella hoped distractedly that she could remember the incantation that would send colour-specific sparks to an intended recipient.

As her footsteps faded into the distance, she could faintly hear Harry bustling around the kitchen table, setting up his cauldron and pulling out ingredients. Unbeknownst to both teenagers, a similar thought was going through his mind.

Because the map was incomplete, a direct path to her father's location was largely unknown to her. Estella could only hope that the labyrinth of corridors that riddled the underground depths of the property would lead her to him. She did not know what she'd do if her path was blocked. It was generally not a good idea for a witch, particularly an untrained one, to use any sort of destructive curses when preoccupied. Course, she could always just banish whatever obstacles she came across… rather than fill her head with scenarios that had not yet come to pass, she pushed on.

Holding her breath as she drew her wand, she cast her eyes to the gods above and crossed her fingers. Hopefully, any detection of her under-aged magic would be overlooked, or, at best, the Ministry Owls delayed at the border. She hadn't wanted to tell Harry, but part of her suspected that the Ministry only really paid attention to unauthorised casting that took place in un-warded areas, or in front of Muggles – instances where the Magic-Reversal Squad or the Obliviators would automatically be dispatched as a precaution. If her suspicions were, in fact, correct, then her following actions would fall slightly short of the radar.

"Here goes nothing," she said to herself, sending a first lot of sparks back to Harry before casting a powerful _Lumos_ to light her way.

Letting the map guide her, she ventured into a small, unused passageway; the walls narrow in places and ceilings closed in by formations of stalactites. Counting measurably in her head, she made sure she sent sparks at the correct intervals. She was perhaps a few hundred feet from her starting point when she began to hear the rustling of wings. Shifting her wand light from the floor before her to the ceiling just ahead of her, Estella stifled a gasp.

"Bats!" she grimaced, watching in abstract horror as they began to screech and fly at her, fleeing from her encroachment into their dark, damp home.

Standing rigidly, Estella tensed and held her breath, fighting the urge to wave her arms about her head.

'_Get a grip, Black!_' she chided herself. _'Bats have sonar, they can't fly into you.'_

Exhaling in relief, she was about to cautiously make her way forward when, splat, something wet landed on her shoulder.

"Great." she muttered to herself in disgust. Bat excrement was clearly not as deflective as its source.

The bat cave now clear of its winged occupants, Estella continued on her way quickly. Soon enough, she could hear the sounds of water and see an unidentified light source up ahead. Judging by the bats, wherever her wand was leading her was not part of the main cave system. The parts of the caves Remus' Muggle ancestors had used for storage were trafficked well enough and lit with a series of man-made sky-lights, the small narrow cracks in the ceiling ensuring ventilation as well as sun light. Quickening in her step, Estella began to run along the slippery rock, her feet clapping on the cool stone and echoing throughout the underground cavity.

"Dad, Dad!" she began to call out, becoming more and more convinced as she made her way towards the light that there must be an entrance ahead that the adults had not been able to spot from the air. Maybe Padfoot had attempted to seek shelter and had gotten trapped by falling sediment, or perhaps the rain-soaked earth in the clearing above had collapsed under the two wizards as they waited out the full moon. Her breath stilting at the thought of her father's body laying impaled on a stalagmite, Estella shuddered with dread and hoped beyond hope that her fears were unfounded.

Getting closer and closer to the light with each step, Estella could see the narrow corridor begin to widen into an antechamber. In her hand, her wand began to thrum: wherever her father was, he was close. She could just _feel_ it.

"Dad!" she called out again, the light from the tip of her wand covering not nearly enough ground.

Above her, slightly ahead, Estella could see where the soft earth of the ceiling had eroded away, creating a gaping wound that seemed to funnel all the rain like a cascading waterfall. Staying under the shelter of a sturdy part of the ceiling that was still intact, Estella chanced a look upwards. The moonlight that had been guiding her to this point was now blotted out by dark clouds. Suddenly, clumps of soil around the caved-in ceiling began to unsettle, and a dark shadow peered over the edge, howling.

"Moony?" Estella shone her light up at her godfather's lupine form, immediately alarmed as she saw his paws clutch at the edge of the hole, disturbing the weak, muddy clay as it threatened to implode. "Moony, be careful! The ground is not stable!"

At that, Moony disappeared from the edge, and Estella began to panic.

"Moony!" she cried out. Immediately, Moony's head appeared again, this time on the other side of the hole, where the ground was more stable and anchored by rocks. The look in his eyes was, if Estella didn't know any better, most bemused – as though to say 'make up your mind!' "Where's Dad, Moony? Where's Padfoot?"

Before Estella could even hit herself for being so dense as to try and get an answer out of her godfather's animal alter-ego, a pained moan drew her attention to a still form that was almost hidden by a clump of earth. Rushing forward, Estella was greeted with the horrible sight of her father's barely conscious body; the man having evidently transformed back into a human as he drifted in and out of consciousness.

Directly under the flow of stormwater as it drained away into the cave, Sirius was drenched through and shivering. His clothes were muddy and torn and it was hard to discern any injuries. Shining the light along her father's length, Estella blanched when she caught sight of his right leg. Not only was it twisted an alarming angle, but, just below the cuff-line of his shorts a bloody wound revealed a splintering of bone. Turning from canine to human must surely have aggravated the wound.

"Oh, Dad!" Estella gasped, falling her knees beside her father's head as she leant over him protectively, shielding his face from the falling water. Smoothing his matted hair out of his face with clammy hands, Estella shivered as the rain began to soak her through. Under her ministrations, however, her father was faring much worse. "Dad?"

"Estella?" her father croaked with much effort, his eyes flicking open suddenly and registering her hovering form. Immediately, he tried to sit up.

Placing a steadying hand on his shoulder, Estella shook her head. "You really don't want to be doing that," she said gently as he winced in pain.

"You're not going to let me live this down, are you?" groaned Sirius, becoming more and more lucid. "I'm sorry, kiddo, we should have listened to you and checked out the ground cover before-"

"Hush, don't concern yourself with that now." said Estella distractedly, patting his shoulder comfortingly, her wand resting on his chest.

Grabbing her wand, Sirius flexed his fingers around the handle before flicking the tip towards the sky above and summoning his own wand.

"Are you quite all right, there?" Estella drawled humouredly. "By all means, help yourself to my wand, why don't you?"

Sirius merely smirked as, from his vantage point, he could see a familiar slither of wood fly in through the hole above, making a beeline for the back of Estella's head.

"Ow!" she exclaimed, a hand reaching up to rub the back of her head where the wand had struck her with a dull crack. "What'd you do that for?"

"Consider that your punishment for coming out here when we told you to stay in the house!" Sirius said half-heartedly, handing her back her wand so he could pick up his own wand from where it had landed by his side.

"Hey, don't get up my nose!" scowled Estella. "I was only answering Moony's S.O.S."

"He could have been calling for the moon, for all you knew." said Sirius soberly. "Werewolves are inclined to do so when they can't see it, you know."

"Don't you dare suggest that I should have ignored what was clearly a distress call!" said Estella irritably. "Now admit you need help, and maybe I'll be inclined to help you."

"I have my wand back now, thank you very much," said Sirius. "I'll take it from here."

"Oh, will you now?" Estella challenged him. "How do you suppose to use your wand to get back to the house, mmm? You gonna levitate yourself?"

"No, of course not!" scoffed Sirius. "For your information, I was going to splint my leg and conjure a crutch…"

"You'll do no such thing!" snapped Estella, grabbing the tip of his wand before he could point it at his badly broken leg. "Have you even _looked_ at your leg?"

"Well I would if you would let me sit up and get a look at it!" snapped Sirius, his pain trying his patience.

"Oh, and what piece of bone would you like to scrutinise first, hey?" said Estella, leaning back to give her father freedom of movement.

"Bone?" said Sirius, paling slightly as he raised himself up on his elbows and caught a slight glimpse of his mangled leg. His strength waning, he slipped back, Estella's quick reflexes catching him before his head could slam weightlessly to the ground.

Shuffling closer so she could cradle his head on her knees, Estella stroked his hair in an effort to soothe the pained look off his face. Not saying a word, she sighed and shook her head slightly at his antics.

"Okay." he admitted once the stabbing pain in his limbs had numbed down to a dull throb, enabling him to speak once more. Holding up his hand and gesturing with his thumb and forefinger, he continued. "Maybe I need a _little_ help."

"Well, you happen to be in luck," said Estella "for I happen to be in a rather generous mood."

"But, wait a minute, what can you do?" Sirius frowned suddenly. "You can't use magic… the laws…"

"Since when has that stopped the likes of us?" asked Estella.

Blinking at her in surprise, Sirius' logic caught up with him. "Hey, where's Tonks? Why didn't she come?"

"Oh, er, I thought it best that a fully-trained Auror remain with Harry." said Estella lamely. It wasn't such a stretch from the truth.

"Estella…" said Sirius in a warning tone. "What happened? Tonks would not have sent you out here alone, especially not if there was a good chance you'd need to do magic. Why didn't you all come?"

"Oh, one saviour not enough for you?" quipped Estella, feigning hurt.

"Don't beat around the bush with me, young lady." said Sirius firmly, though it was hard to maintain an air of authority when one was in pain and lying with his head cradled in the arms of the person they were supposed to be intimidating. "You snuck out, didn't you?"

"No." said Estella. "Harry knew where I was going."

"And Tonks?" growled Sirius.

"Is slightly incapacitated," admitted Estella. At her father's questioning look, she elaborated. "She fell and sprained her ankle."

Shaking his head slightly, Sirius snorted derisively, muttering something along the lines of "typical!" Above him, Estella sighed in relief; though she knew that if her father knew the circumstances in which Tonks had slipped, he probably would not find it as amusing.

"All right." said Sirius decisively, not wanting to be in his current predicament any longer than need be. "How are we going to work this? If I cannot walk, then you will have to levitate me. Do you think you could do that? How far is it by foot?"

Running through her own list of alternatives in her mind, Estella laid her cards on the table. "Well the way I figure it, we have four options."

"Which are?" prompted Sirius.

"One, I make you as comfortable as I can and we wait for moonset." eyeing her father's leg, Estella dismissed the idea almost as soon as she said it. "Two," she continued, "I levitate you through the caves back to the cellar." She took a breath. "Three, you summon your broom from the edge of the clearing and we fly through the rain."

At that suggestion, Sirius shook his head. "What's four?"

"I use my Portkey and take us back to Grimmauld Place where Dumbledore will never let you live this down." said Estella.

"Portkey?" Sirius frowned. "Who gave you a Portkey?"

"No one." said Estella, tweaking her pendant. "Uncle Sev charmed this."

"I thought he left all too easily." said Sirius, nodding in silent approval. He may not endeavour to have a heart to heart with his only brother-in-law any time soon, but he could appreciate the man's tactful subtlety. If there were one thing he could depend upon with the man, it was that he would often think of the things that Sirius himself had overlooked. Although they seldom collaborated, with the pair of them – and not to forget Remus, too – on the case, Estella was bound to be kept safe.

Taking a deep breath, Sirius braced himself stoically and nodded assertively. Adopting a theatrical game-show host voice, he smiled weakly. "How's about we see what's behind door number two?"

Nodding briskly, Estella sent the promised sparks into the air to let Harry know that she had found Sirius and was on her way back, she then set about levitating her father. Caught off-guard by his strangled yelp of pain, Estella fumbled and set him back down a little too harshly. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Estella's eyes began to tear in a mix of frustration and sympathy as her father did his best not to shout out.

Above them, Moony was watching them with concern, the werewolf whimpering slightly. Glaring at each of them in turn, Sirius channelled his pain into anger and snapped at them. "Don't either of you start blubbering on with feelings of guilt!" he said, knowing full well that Remus was up there feeling remorse for dragging him out for the transformation and his daughter was mortified at the prospect of escalating his pain.

"Why would we feel guilty?" said Estella airily, slamming the lid closed on the irrational emotions in favour of a sarcastic tone. "If you weren't such a wimp and quit with all the theatrics, we'd be halfway back by now!"

Seeing the mock-cross look on his daughter's face, Sirius' face brightened with mirth.

"Well, can you blame a man for being offended?" he said. "I could have been lingering near death, and all my family sends is just one rescuer!"

Silently observing the banter between father and daughter, Moony began to pant excitedly – the closest his four-legged form could get to laughing. Below, the injured man and his Calvary re-assessed the situation.

"Estella," Sirius swallowed back his pride. "Sweetheart, I don't think… I don't think I could bear it. Being levitated all that way…"

Nodding sadly, Estella pursed her lips together in thought. "I have an idea," she said. "But you're not going to like it."

Recognising the glint in her eye, Sirius sought a distraction. "What's that on your shoulder?" he asked hurriedly, trying to delay the inevitable. "Is it… it isn't… it is… bat crap?"

"Don't ask." scowled Estella, shuddering at the memory. Gripping her wand tighter, she trailed off in thought as she searched the recesses of her mind for the right spell. The words forming themselves on her lips, Estella levelled her wand at her father's leg and smirked. "And who said history doesn't repeat?"

"Estella, no!" Sirius gasped out as his daughter successfully cast the spell that removed the damaged bones in his leg.

"I'm sorry, it had to be done," said Estella simply. "There was simply too much damage there for any of us to take care of on our own, and short of Portkeying you back to London and getting you to a proper Healer…"

Sirius sighed. "Yes, well, I suppose it's done now." he said, sitting up. "Hey, the pain's gone!"

"Well, duh, why do you think I did it?" Estella rolled her eyes at her father. "So, do you want to hobble or hover?"

"Hobble away, dear bat girl." said Sirius, feeling in much better spirits on account of his leg being neutralised.

Narrowing her eyes at her father, Estella tried to recall if he were familiar with the Batman comic books, or if his passing comment was purely coincidence. Above her, however, Moony was making an odd chortling noise.

"Don't you start!" she snapped, glaring at each of them for good measure. Doing a double take skyward, her mouth fell open. "Are you… is he… Dad, is Moony… is he _laughing_?"

Looking upwards, Sirius could only bite back a grin. "Looks like it." he shrugged. Toying with the wand in his hand, he smirked. "Just remember, Moony, which of us has a wand right now."

Sufficiently warned, Moony yelped and retreated out of sight.

"Come on, jelly leg, we'd better get going." Estella said restlessly. "I've already sent the sparks up. Harry's gonna mirror-call reinforcements if we're not back soon."

"Bloody hell, why didn't you say so?" Sirius blanched, not wanting to lose face with any of the 'responsible' wizards who were already on his case enough as it was.

After letting Moony know that they were leaving and biding him farewell until dawn, Sirius hastily conjured himself a strong crutch and they were off. Remus would follow in the morning with both his and Sirius' brooms after he'd transformed.

"You know, add a glass eye and you could be Moody," said Estella as she assisted her father on their slow journey back towards the main cellar under the kitchen, the steady tapping of his crutch thundering through the tunnel.

"When I get my bones back, I'm going to test out my new foot by giving you a swift kick in the behind." grumbled Sirius. Cutting off his daughter's laugh, he sobered. "I mean it, Estella. That was a very foolish thing you did just now. Moony could have been trying to alert you guys of a Death Eater attack. You should have… well as much as I hate to admit it, you should have called someone at Headquarters."

"But I didn't want you to lose any credibility with them." Estella chewed on her bottom lip. "They'd flip their lid and use it as an excuse to keep me and Harry away from you or something!"

"I'd rather lose my pride than lose either of you ratbags," said Sirius quietly. Before his daughter could look too reproachful, he smiled reassuringly. "It's okay, everything worked out _this_ _time_. I'll grant you this one little escapade as a sign of appreciation for keeping the old man out of the equation."

"Which old man?" asked Estella innocently. "From my young perspective, any guy who isn't a Hogwarts student is an 'old man'."

* * *

Finally making it back to the cellar directly below the kitchen, the pair was met by a visibly relieved Harry. After a brief debate, Sirius reluctantly consented to Estella levitating him up the ladder and into the kitchen. While they were gone, Harry had made equal quantities of the potions Estella had asked for and had long since bottled the dosages and cleaned up after himself. He was, without saying, quite put out to discover, then, that neither potion was required. Skele-Gro could not be taken in conjunction with any other potion. It was just a good thing Estella kept an emergency dose in her comprehensive sample kit.

With Sirius as comfortable as possible on a temporary bed in the room rechristened 'the infirmary' (for, with the equally bedridden Tonks, it had two patients); Estella tended to his wounds. After sealing the broken skin with a salve that would not interfere with the potion, she bandaged up his leg and administered the bone regrowing potion.

Though the teens were then free to head off up to bed, they chose instead to maintain a vigil, intent on supporting the weary Animagus as he went through the pain and trauma of regrowing the bones in his lower leg. While Harry made himself comfortable in the high-backed, padded desk chair, reclining back in it and propping his legs up on the desk; Estella curled up alongside hr father's 'good' side, her hand firmly clasped in his as a show of support. It was thus, how an exhausted werewolf happened upon his makeshift family, as he rushed back to the cottage before the sun had risen. After inspecting Tonks' raised ankle with confusion, and tucking in his godchild as she curled up against her father's unconscious form, Remus summoned two blankets from the other room. Draping one such blanket over the raven-haired teen at the desk, he then flopped into a well-worn armchair and threw his legs up on the coffee table that sat between the slumbering cousins of Black descent.

Cursing his stupidity for going to the trouble of grabbing himself a blanket when the early dawn sun was already going to work, warming the atmosphere, Remus Lupin shrugged off the unwanted layer and fell into a deep sleep. _'If this is what a vacation is supposed to be like,'_ he thought to himself as he drifted off, _'it's no wonder people manage to bring themselves home from them.'_

END CHAPTER: Stars and Moon

NEXT CHAPTER: Unusual Welcomes:

Summary: With the holidays over, the group return to London, stopping by Diagon Alley to pick up school supplies. Just who are they trying to avoid? What's changed in the wizarding world while they've been away? Why are the Weasley Twins looking at them strangely, and what happens that make Sirius see red?

Due: 28th November 2005


	9. Unusual Welcomes

**Disclaimer: If it were mine, I would have seen _Goblet of Fire_ nearly a month ago and would not be going crazy from the wait… oh, and anything particularly recognisable comes directly from Chapter Six of HBP... Spoilers, therefore, are a given. **

**Updated: Monday 28th November 2005**

**Chapter 09: Unusual Welcomes**

"Bad dream?" Estella rolled over and favoured her roommate with a sympathetic glance. With their return to Hogwarts imminent, it was, perhaps unsurprising that events of the previous June were starting to play on their anxieties. As Estella threw off her dampened sheets and sat up, reaching for the glass of water by her bed, she couldn't quite figure if it had been Harry's own strangled noises that had lulled her from her dream, or if she'd woken up naturally. Looking across at the equally-dishevelled boy, she could tell he was trying to work out the exact same thing. Eyes narrowing as she saw him rub at his scar, Estella set down her glass carefully. "Scar?"

"No." Harry said after a moment of deliberation. "Memories…"

"The third task?" Estella whispered knowingly. Estella suspected that Harry had experienced similar dreams during the first few weeks of summer – she knew she had. The ruminations of what Remus called 'post-traumatic shock' and the careful plotting of the adults to keep them busy ensured that the nightmares stopped. Now, though, that they were faced with leaving the security of their 'family unit', anxieties were beginning to manifest themselves in the form of their night terrors.

Harry nodded slowly, his eyes meeting hers in a silent agreement. Talking about their dreams was only for an audience who set out to discover what their experience was about. It did little to alleviate the horrors of that night in June. "What are we going to do?" Harry asked hoarsely, frustration evident in his tone. "How am I supposed to sleep in the Tower without waking every one up?"

"Dreamless Sleep?" Estella suggested the illusive potion. "It'd only be a temporary solution though, 'cause you really don't want to develop a dependency to it."

"That doesn't help then, does it?" Harry rubbed at his scar again. It wasn't that the famous mark hurt, it was just a habit that his attention flew to the scar Voldemort had given him whenever he were thinking about how the evil git had stuffed around with his life and family.

"You could try clearing your mind." Estella said suddenly. "You know, Occlumency?"

"Oh way to get me back to sleep thinking happy thoughts." Harry grumbled. "Private lessons with Snape…"

Estella glared at him, but said nothing. She would be an idiot not to acknowledge that those two in the same room together, alone, would not be a bearer of good things.

"I don't know why I didn't think of it earlier!" Estella was more relieved. When she was a child living with her uncle, she'd been taught to make a habit of clearing her mind before bed. With a little concentration, discipline and the right teacher, it wasn't any more different or difficult than meditating in a relaxed state. As she got older however, and saw less of her uncle, clearing her mind was often the last thing on her agenda when she fell into bed at night; hence her current susceptibility.

Leaning over the edge of her bed, her head craning into the cavity below the mattress in search of something, Estella felt around with her hand under the bed and sat back up with her walkman in her hand. "Now." she said, making herself comfortable. "I don't quite know how to explain it, so I am afraid I can't really teach you, but in short, I kind of see clearing your mind a bit like losing yourself in a song you like."

"Um, all right." said Harry attentively, watching her every move as she fiddled with the buttons on the well-used device.

"Yeah, so, sometimes when I want to clear my mind without much effort, I listen to some music," continued Estella. "I don't really need it anymore, but in the very least it will get your mind off your dream before you go back to sleep."

At that, Estella pressed the button that her godfather had charmed to amplify the sound coming out of the headphones and looked at Harry for approval before she hit the play button.

"What are you going to play?" asked Harry curiously. "You might wake everyone up!"

"Oh, just something of a lullaby." Estella smirked. She didn't want to tell Harry, but she had every reason to believe that the adults in the next room were already awake. While her father was a heavy sleeper and had more than likely slept through the sounds of the two teenagers having a nightmare, Estella knew for a fact that her godfather, with his keen sense of hearing, would most certainly have heard. Had they been in separate rooms, she had no doubt that he would have gotten both himself and Sirius into gear, but with the two teenagers up and talking things through amongst themselves, no adult was required.

If a nice, sleep-inducing ballad was of the sort of song Harry was expecting when Estella hit play, Metallica's '_Enter the Sandman_' did not fit that mould. Staring at his eccentric friend in confusion, she motioned for him to wait and just listen. Sure enough, the lyrics represented the parody of a lullaby, and Harry couldn't help but grin at the line about dreaming of war, lies, dragon's fire and things that bite. All right, so having such things mentioned didn't get his mind off said events, but it did help him look at in a different light.

"Friends of yours?" smirked Harry, inwardly wondering if Estella had someone bewitched the player to sing the lyrics of her own invention.

"Metallica?" gushed Estella, rolling her eyes. "Man, I wish!"

Pressing a few buttons on her player to cue up a string of her favourite Metallica songs, Estella switched the headphones back on and offered him the walkman.

"Here," she said, yawning. "Listen to some more of their stuff, if you want, I'm about to drop."

"Maybe in the morning." said Harry, accepting the charmed walkman that mobilised Estella's entire music collection - and set it down on the bedside table. "Anymore of that, and I'll be bouncing off the walls… and we'd better get some sleep if we're going to make a day of it in Diagon Alley tomorrow."

"It's going to be weird leaving this place." Estella sighed, rolling onto her back and resting her hands under her head.

"I'm sure we'll be back." Harry assured her, yawning as he mirrored Estella's actions.

Estella nodded as she began to drift off, but Harry didn't see it, he was already asleep.

* * *

"Are they asleep?" asked Sirius, craning his ear against the teenager's door to try and detect the levelling out of their breathing.

Unbeknownst to the pair, Sirius had awoken without apparent provocation shortly after Estella had pulled herself out of her nightmare. The parental instinct that sunk in his gut, silently urging him to check on his child had him up and crossing the floor of the room he shared with Remus before he was even aware of what he was doing.

At first – when Sirius had first been reunited with his child - he had not known what the unsettling restlessness was. He'd already spent a lot of his time, back then, checking in on his daughter at every opportunity, as though to reassure himself that she was real, that he'd not recognised the feeling for what it was. Now Sirius was a little wiser, he could tell immediately when his child needed him.

"Sirius." Remus had called him back, the awoken werewolf merely opening his eyes to look at his friend. "She's fine."

The werewolf had, of course, stirred at the first sign of noises coming from the next room. Such was the curse of preternatural hearing. Though his first instinct had, like Sirius, been to go in there and pull the distressed children from their nightmares, Remus knew better. The teens were getting too old to be coddled like that, and with both of them set to embark for Hogwarts within the next two days, it was much more important that they learned methods to self-comfort.

As much as it pained Sirius to admit it, the worried Animagus knew that his friend was right. They both knew, also, that Estella already had means to ensure her dreams did not recur – which is why they did not burst into the room indignantly when the heavy metal refrains of the distinctive Muggle band had reverberated through the house, rousing a disorientated and alarmed Tonks from her post. That didn't mean that either man particularly liked the idea. Both did, indeed, yearn to see to the children's needs; if only to reassure themselves that they were all right and that, as guardians, they weren't entirely helpless.

No sooner had Remus confirmed that the children's breathing had deepened, signifying their return to slumber, did Sirius creep the door open. Tonks had long since stumbled back down the stairs to her room, mumbling something about silencing charms and returning the favour at dawn. Remus had followed her down in pursuit of a comforting dose of chocolate ice cream. Neither teenager knew it, but the two Marauders were just as distraught about leaving their sanctuary and returning the children to school where they would be out of reach and in potential danger.

Sirius, meanwhile, had closed the bedroom door behind him and made his way between the two beds. After checking that each child was in fact safe and comfortably asleep, the weary father transformed swiftly and curled up on the floor by the bedside table. Lulled to sleep by the rhythmic motions of the sleeping teenagers' breathing, Sirius Black sighed contently.

'_I'm going to miss this_.' he thought to himself as sleep claimed him.

* * *

"For the last time, do _not_ call me 'Bat Girl'!" Estella protested. Sirius had made a point to recount Estella's unfortunate encounter with the falling waste and the others didn't hesitate in pushing her buttons.

"But it's so fitting!" pouted Harry. "Amongst other things, your uncle is the greasy bat himself…"

"Don't even go there, Harry Potter!" shrieked Estella, levelling her wand at him threateningly. Years of being called 'mini-bat' in the years before Hogwarts had made her particularly subjective. "Under-aged laws or not, I _will_ hex you!"

"Estella…" two men chided her lightly, their voices laced with mirth. The group had recently departed their holiday sanctuary and had Apparated with the children to a nondescript alley off Diagon Alley.

"What?" snapped Estella huffily. "If I get expelled, at least I wouldn't have to put up with _him_!"

Sirius rounded on his daughter excitedly. "By Merlin's beard, you're right!" he exclaimed. "You get expelled and I won't ever have to give you up, either! So go ahead, Hex him to next week!"

Breaking out of their respective characters – for they were only just fooling around, as usual – the players in the warped little game began to laugh.

"That was really convincing, that time." marvelled Harry. "I actually believed you were about to hex me!"

"Who said I was joking?" said Estella malevolently from her place against Remus' side. "Anyway, you're one to talk when it comes to irritating nicknames, you, you, 'Boy-Who-Lived-to-Vex-us-All!'"

Beside them, Sirius, who had side-Apparated with Harry, laughed. Turning on him simultaneously, the teenagers snapped at him.

"Can it, Stumpy!"

Over the course of the days immediately after the full moon, none of the vacationers had emerged from the night without repercussion. Irritated from having to spend half the night awake, unable to sleep on account of Moony's howling, Tonks had hexed Remus with a spell that had him trying to communicate in howls and barks all day. When Harry had tried to take advantage of the situation by poking fun at the disgruntled man at every opportunity, Remus had pointed his wand at the boy and jinxed him with a non-verbal spell. Until Tonks' spell had wore off and Remus was able to supply the name of the jinx he'd used so that it could be countered, Harry had to go through the day with green hair, black eyes and red skin. The antics of the two teenagers as Harry had taken to chasing Estella, who had taken a few photos and was since trying to protect her camera from reprisals, did not fail to get the adults' minds off the storm they were about to enter into upon their return to London.

Estella, meanwhile, had to endure Remus and Tonks filling Sirius' - and, to a lesser extent, Harry's – head with an explanation of the fictitious character. To make matters worse, Remus had found a visual depiction of it in an abandoned comic book from his youth. Ever since, her father had threatened to hex her clothes to resemble the caped crusader's costume… that was, of course, until Estella threatened to remove the bones in all of his limbs before strapping his helpless body to a Muggle searchlight and using him as the bat signal.

Subsequently, the memory of Sirius' boneless leg had prompted the cheeky teens to call him 'Stumpy' at every opportunity. Given the name's likeness to the name 'Stimpy', Remus became 'Ren' by default, though none of the adults were quite sure why. As for Tonks, after she had limped into the kitchen the following morning - everyone too wrapped up in marvelling Sirius' fully healed and regrown leg to remember about her ankle - the jovial Animagus had sniggered and begun calling her 'Limpy Nymphy'. Course, after what Tonks had done to him after that, no one else dared to follow his example. Even now, two days later, one could see the odd peacock feather in the thoroughly chastised wizard's hair.

Walking together happily as they made their way towards the magical shopping precinct, Sirius paused to crack his back into place. Early that morning, Tonks had extracted her revenge by blaring loud music into the upstairs bedroom. Both children had awoken with a jolt and fallen out of bed; their landing softened by the torso of the groggy Animagus whose reflexes were just not quick enough at that ungodly hour. Seeing him wince and rub his back in reminiscence, the teenagers merely rolled their eyes at his theatrics and latched onto his arms on either side. Catching on, Tonks latched herself to Harry's side, while Remus made himself at home beside his goddaughter.

Unable to help himself, Remus began to hum the refrain to the signature song from the Muggle Musical, _The Wizard of Oz_. Recognising the catchy tune immediately, the teenagers began to laugh heartily, whilst Sirius, as usual, was looking confused. With a Muggle father, Tonks was more than familiar with the classic musical and was smiling contently until Remus delightfully allocated characters to each of them. He, of course, was quite aptly the Tin Man; whilst Harry was the Lion – after his dose of courage, of course – and Estella was Dorothy. Sirius was rather confused as to what a Muggle band was doing in a Muggle children's story, but took to the character of Toto without complaint. Tonks, however, had taken particular offence at being likened to the clumsy Scarecrow.

"Don't even try it, _Ren_," Tonks had said warningly. She'd been in the nearby French village that morning collecting some breakfast from a local patisserie – for the house had been cleared of the last of the food the night before. By chance, she'd caught an episode of the cartoon '_Ren and Stimpy_' as she had passed an electronic store. "You don't want to find out first hand what the kids named you for."

Remus sobered immediately, though inwardly he was making a mental note to find a television and T.V. Guide as soon as the kids were back at school. Emerging into the normally bustling street, the others suddenly had reasons to sober up their act. Around them, Diagon Alley resembled a ghost town. Shortly after Harry's hearing, as Dumbledore had informed Sirius during one of their nightly mirror-talks, Cornelius Fudge had been deposed as Minister and replaced with someone the ex-Auror had known quite well, back in the day.

Apparently, the notorious directness with which Rufus Scrimgeour had approached his position high in the echelons of the Ministry's Law Enforcement Department had been reflected into his dealings as the newly appointed Minister. One of his first orders of business had been to confirm Voldemort's return. Pamphlets informing Magical families how to protect themselves against possible threats had been issued before the _Daily Prophet_ had even caught wind of the administration change, and notices had been issued for wanted Death Eaters.

Shivering slightly – both from the cooler temperature of London and the chilling realisation that their world was again at war - the returned travellers braced themselves. Seeing a need to inject levity into the situation, Estella tightened her grip on her father and godfather's arms and took a tentative step forward.

"Snark Lords and slime balls with masks, oh my." she said in a sing-song voice, borrowing heavily from Dorothy's own lament as she had led the way through the shadier sections of the yellow brick road.

Catching on immediately, the others – even Sirius, who could, despite not knowing the film reference, appreciate his daughter's imagery – chuckled. Smiling wistfully, they headed out into the eerily quiet cobblestone alley, the amusement on their faces not to be mistaken for inattention. Neither of the teenagers said anything as the adults' hold on them failed to relent, and the emergence of wands was welcomed.

"Everything's fine," Sirius assured the child on either side of him. "Just be on your guard, okay?"

Everyone nodded, their eyes scouring the landscape before them as they ventured forth. Diagon Alley had changed. The colourful, glittering window displays of spellbooks, potion ingredients and cauldrons were lost to view; hidden behind large Ministry of Magic posters that had been pasted over them. Most of these sombre purple posters were, by the looks of it, blown-up versions of the security advice the Ministry had sent out to residents, whilst others bore moving black-and-white photographs of Death Eaters known to be on the loose. Stiffening slightly, Estella was reminded of a time not too long ago when her father had still been wanted and the very same walls had been plastered with his face. Filled simultaneously with a foreboding fear of loss and indignant sense of irony, both father and daughter shook their heads. If such measures had not sufficed to recapture the wrongly-accused Animagus, then what chance did the wanted posters have to ensuring the capture of these actual criminals?

"It's the ones people don't know the identity of that we really have to watch for." said Tonks darkly. Lucius Malfoy, for instance, was not widely suspected of his crimes.

"Oh bugger." moaned Harry, pointing. "Fortescue's shut up shop."

Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlour was, in fact, boarded up, as were a number of other shops along the way. In their place, a number of shabby-looking stalls had sprung up along the street. The nearest one, which had been erected outside Flourish and Blotts under a striped, stained awning, had a cardboard sign pinned to its front:

_Amulets: Effective Against Werewolves, Dementors and Inferi_

A seedy-looking little wizard was rattling armfuls of silver symbols on chains at passers-by.

"One for your little, girl, sir?" he called at Sirius as they passed, leering at Estella. 'Protect her pretty neck?'

Displaying reflexes that belied his unassuming exterior, Sirius unlinked his arms from the two teenagers and caught the man's wrist as he attempted to get a closer look at the pendant around his daughter's neck. With his other hand, he pressed his wand into the man's neck. Remus too, had stood in front of his goddaughter protectively and drawn his own wand.

"Whoa!" the man pleaded. "I was just admirin' that charming little necklet. Where'd you get it, lassie?"

"Stay away from my daughter!" warned Sirius. "Go near her again and you'll be hoping I do a good job hiding your body, lest Voldemort curse you into one of those Inferi you profess to protect against."

Extracting himself from the infuriated Animagus' grip, the scrawny looking man scrambled to maintain his dignity. "I'll have you know my amulets are highly effective!"

"Oh really?" asked Remus, surprising all who knew him when he didn't hesitate to pick up one of the silver-looking amulets. "This so-called werewolf repellent isn't even silver!"

"It is too!" the man maintained, though his assurances fell on deaf ears. "You can't possibly claim it's not just by picking it up!"

"You want to bet?" snarled Remus, tossing the useless trinket at him in disgust. "Why don't you come join me for dinner on, say, I don't know, the next Full Moon?"

Realisation sinking into the man's features, he turned on his heel and took off in the opposite direction, his wares forgotten.

"That's right!" Tonks called after him, shaking her fist. "Nick off back to Knockturn Alley where you belong, you, you, you…"

"Slimy, sleazy bastard?" Estella offered.

"Estella!" The men chided her for her language.

"What?" shrugged Estella, "are you denying that the name doesn't suit him?"

"Don't let me hear about you using that kind of language at school," Sirius warned, putting his arm around his daughter protectively. "Minnie will have my head."

"-and you'd better not even so much as refer to Professor McGonagall as that in private conversation, either," Remus suggested, giving Sirius a reproachful look as though to reprimand the taller man for teaching the teenagers bad habits. Despite graduating from Hogwarts almost twenty years ago, they two former Gryffindors still feared the wrath of their former Head of House. In a manner of speaking, they had spent so much time in her office as students that they saw more of her than they did their own mothers, and as such, they could not bring themselves to question her continued authority over them.

As though cursed for thinking about a woman who could pull such a hold over grown adults, a shock of red hair caught their attention.

"Oh, bloody hell!" Sirius cursed, pulling each teen by an arm and bustling them in the opposite direction, towards the Magical Menagerie. "That's all we need!"

"What?" asked Remus, turning around to seek out what his friend had seen. Blanching at the sight of the formidable redhead, who, blissfully, had yet to set her eyes on them, he pulled Tonks away from a stall purporting to sell spectacles that, when worn, changed the wearer's facial appearance. Hurrying along, they wordlessly crammed into the doorway and into the musty, dimly lit Magical Menagerie. Squeezing amongst the cages and boxes along the window, they peered at the passing Weasley through cracks in the posters that shielded them from view, watching her pass out of sight. Watching the woman as she made a beeline for the Apothecary, the werewolf expelled a breath he didn't realise he'd been hiding.

Beside him, crushed against a stack of baskets, Estella started to giggle.

"I don't believe it!" she exclaimed.

"Don't start!" the two Marauders silenced her with a look. It wasn't that they were afraid of the Weasley mother's wrath, exactly – Sirius, for one, couldn't give a toss what the woman thought of him – they just didn't want to draw the attention of the entire Order before they had a chance to empty their pockets of a serious amount of gold. It was, after all, Sirius' first venture into the shopping district with his two charges as a free man, and he'd been looking forward to spoiling them rotten all summer.

Checking to see if any other customers were within ear shot, Harry grinned and turned his attention to the tank of snakes he was pressed against. Inside the tank, were three snakes of varying colours and sizes. His eyes finding an affinity with a skinny black python with green diamonds patterned on his scales, Harry caught the snake's attention.

"Hello, there," he hissed, his mind making the switch to Parseltongue without being consciously aware of him doing so.

Behind him, with his back slightly turned, Remus' finely-tuned ears picked up on the quiet hissing and he spun around in alarm. Before he could open his mouth to warn the boy-who-lived against being heard, Sirius grabbed his arm and shook his head. The boy's godfather had already ascertained that, asides from the sales assistant absorbed in an edition of _The Quibbler_ on the far side of the store, they were alone in the room. By the looks of it, the underlying sounds of the animals shuffling around in their cages and chattering away in their respective languages had masked the sounds of their entry to the shop, for the shop assistant had yet to flinch.

Watching the bespectacled Gryffindor as he engaged in an involved conversation with all of the snakes, oblivious to the awed audience of adults behind him, no one noticed as Estella made her way over to the display of Kneazles.

"Well, don't you just look the picture of a skunk?" Estella mused, her eyes favouring a small, unusual looking Kneazle that was black with thin white stripes down its back. Reaching in and petting it contently, she frowned. "I wish _I_ could talk to animals."

Pulling the small Kneazle completely out of its pen, she smiled as the furry creature curled up in her arms and began to purr happily. Becoming slightly agitated by the novelty the adults indulged in watching Harry hiss at the snakes, Estella was struck by inspiration.

"Hey, Doolittle," she drawled, crossing over to them to where her furry little friend could be in clear view. "Can you speak, 'skunk'?"

"Skunk?" Harry's eyes flew open in alarm as he saw what he thought to be a skunk in Estella's arms. Pointing at it in shock as he backed up against the slightly more aware adults behind him, he gawked. "Skunk! Estella, watch out!"

Smugly correcting her victim as to the creature's true species, Estella rolled her eyes. "Honestly Harry, you're such a show off!" she said. Then, gesturing to the Kneazle in her arms, she began stroking the white markings on its back. "Besides, even if Skunk here _were_ a skunk, it'd likely have the offending glands removed before it were put on offer as a domesticated pet. The Apothecary does a booming trade in them in the manufacture of Dung Bombs, you know."

"I see you two have made some new friends," Sirius said, rubbing his hands together happily. _Time to make his first purchase of the day_. "How would you like to keep them, mmm?"

Smiling widely at first, Estella was about to express her excitement before she relented.

"But wait," she said gloomily, "you're only allowed one familiar at school and Harry and I already have our Owls."

"Yeah," Harry frowned. "And I'm pretty sure snakes aren't on the list of allowed pets anyway."

"So?" Sirius hardly flinched as he reached for his money bag and gestured towards the counter. "I didn't ask if you _could_ have them, I asked if you _wanted_ them!"

"Well of course!" said Estella without hesitation. There was just something calming in holding that particular Kneazle – like it had chosen her to be its owner – and she could not bring herself to put it down and walk away. Harry too was smiling wistfully at the runty looking snake, the boy excited about having a little pet he could carry with him everywhere and talk to when he was alone.

A great deal of gold for pet and maintenance-related purchases later and the group emerged from the Menagerie with two new additions to their group. The teenagers didn't quite know how they were going to get their new pets to Hogwarts, but Sirius had vowed to 'take care of it' and left it at that. In the meantime, both teenagers had forgone using the respective basket and tank for the animals to transport their new familiars on their person. Having verbal control over his small snake, whose name, Harry explained, just could not translate into English, the young Parselmouth was comfortable allowing the cold-blooded creature to curl up around his wand arm, under the sleeve of his robe. Estella's Kneazle, Skunk – the name had stuck – had crawled up Estella's arm and curled up on her shoulder as soon as the purchase had been confirmed. With its long lion-like tail wrapped securely around the chain that already bore the elated Ravenclaw's pendant, Estella was reluctant to try and move it from its precarious position.

Checking the quiet street for any further sign of the Weasley woman, Sirius tore his eyes away from the sight of his first accomplishment of the day and announced that a trip to Gringotts was in order. Once his money bags were bursting at the seams once more, they headed off to collect the children's school supplies for another year. Though they had not been within reach to receive their school lists in the mail, what items Dumbledore had not taken the opportunity to inform Sirius of, in one of their nightly chats in the mirror, the teenagers were confident the respective shops would be able to supply for them.

Eying his godson's form up and down, Sirius made a decision. "I think we'd better do Madam Malkin's first, Harry here looks to have grown half a foot over the summer. I dare say you're gonna need new robes, kiddo. What about you, Estella?"

"I'm fine for robes," said Estella, sighing slightly. "I seem destined to stay this so-called 'height' forever."

"You're not that short." Remus assured her, despite the fact that even he towered over her still. "You're not even 14 and you're already the same height as Tonks."

"Must be a family thing." Tonks sympathised with her second cousin. "I hate to break it to you, but I don't think you'll be growing much more… I think I grew my last inch around your age."

"Great." grumbled Estella before looking up at her father for permission. "Is it okay if Moony 'n me go to Flourish and Blotts instead? I'll get Harry's books for him and then we can meet you in Quality Quidditch Supplies… Uncle Remus, you wouldn't actually be out to get new robes today, would you?"

"How come, when you want something, I am Uncle Remus?" Remus mused, coming up beside his goddaughter to pet her Kneazle.

"The same way she's _my_ daughter when she short sheets your bed, and your favourite little cub when she gets her school results." drawled Sirius, grinning lopsidedly.

"You guys sound like an old married couple, you know that, don't you?" offered Tonks, instinctively side-stepping behind Harry as she said it. "Come on, cousin-mine, I could use some new casual robes myself; and I wouldn't mind checking out the latest Nimbus…"

Sirius, however, hesitated. Though he would normally welcome the opportunity to forego a bookstore in favour of indulging his passion for Quidditch, the devoted father was inclined to put himself through his daughter's whims just to see her happy. Like her mother, Estella simply loved books. Although Sirius would never be able to understand the joy that the Ravenclaw got from a new book release, it did not mean that he was not able to get his own satisfaction from watching his child clear out the bookstore at his expense. As the children were soon to discover, Sirius was not intending to say no to either of them that day. He was almost about to suggest that they go to all the shops together when his mind reminded him to consider Harry's needs. The athletic young Gryffindor – the image of his father before him – looked extremely keen to hand over the responsibility for his classroom needs to the book lovers before them. As much as he was willing to do anything for his daughter, he found he could not deny his godson either. Despite the niggling insecurity he felt by the idea of handing Estella over to Remus for a yet another experience he'd be denied, the rational side of him acknowledged that Estella's suggestion was a suitable compromise.

"Here," he said finally, handing over a bulging money bag. Ever since Harry had entered into his care, Sirius had insisted that the young boy let him take care of his needs, requesting that the boy keep the money his parents had left him for when he was of age. "If it's not enough, set up a tab and I'll take care of it before we leave."

Eyes bulging at the size and weight of the bag her father had handed her, Estella's mind began filling itself with approximations of just how many books the money in her possession would permit her to buy. Shaking her head dismissively, the practicality of trunk space and actual needs pulling her to her senses, Estella rolled her eyes at her father, hugged him tightly in thanks and bounded off towards the bookstore.

"Estella, don't go out of sight!" Remus beat Sirius to it, calling after Estella in alarm. Though it was unlikely that any Death Eaters would be foolish enough to make themselves known in the heavily-monitored Diagon Alley; after spending a relaxing couple of weeks in the reliable safety of their beachside hideaway, the number of variables they were now surrounded with, frayed at their nerves. All around them, shoppers were bustling around in small, tight-knit groups; everyone intent on their business and not stopping to talk to anyone. The anxious, harried looks on the nameless faces were inevitably starting to bring the morale of the group down; the carefree simplicity and safety of their getaway quickly being forgotten.

"Meet you by the Snitch display in, say, an hour?" Sirius suggested, knowing that it was best to give each other a time frame. He trusted his oldest friend with his daughter implicitly, and the directions of what to do if anything were to happen went unspoken. Getting the message, Remus nodded in agreement and took off towards Estella, who was waiting patiently by the doorway, careful to remain in sight.

Reconvening in the Quality Quidditch Supplies precisely one hour later, the group bantered amongst themselves – Remus and Estella, telling the others about new books they had found, with Sirius and Harry sharing news of a new range of Quidditch robes – as they made their way back to Madam Malkin's to pick up Harry's finished robes. Once done, their shrunken purchases securely stowed away in their robes alongside their trunks and purchases from earlier in the day, they made their way through the Apothecary and Eeylops Owl Emporium to pick up potion supplies and owl treats respectively. All of their immediate school needs now met, the teenagers took the opportunity to drag the adults along the row, pausing and stopping occasionally to explore the wares of obscure little shops and stalls.

Many of the shops, however, were vastly understocked. Even Flourish and Blotts, as Estella had earlier exclaimed in disgust, had run out of some books on the Hogwarts lists. In light of the war now upon them, the proprietors had taken it upon themselves to secure their stockpiles at an undisclosed location, certain in the fact that many of the families would take to sending away for their children's school supplies rather than venturing out into the streets and buying them in-store. The salesperson had been extremely apologetic about the oversight, and had promised to deliver any books they needed as soon as possible.

"He gave us a discount, too," said Estella.

"Yes, but of all the books that had to be missing from my list!" groaned Harry. "Did it have to be _Potions_?"

Estella looked at Harry sympathetically. "Don't worry, Harry," she said. "If my uncle gives you a hard time about it, blame it on me. If I hadn't spent so long in the magical creatures aisle, that Hufflepuff in your year wouldn't have nicked off with the last copy."

"If it's any consolation, Harry." said Remus. "I am certain you are not the only student in your class in this situation. Estella had to place an Owl Order for her Transfiguration text, too."

"Like I'm not far enough behind in that class!" moaned Estella.

"I think I may have dropped my old Potions text in a cauldron, Harry." Sirius smiled apologetically. _'Hexed it to explode in Severus' face on the train at the end of term, more like'_ he thought to himself with a sad smile.

"But Estella, I may have my old fourth-year Transfiguration book around somewhere. Didn't you find my old school trunk in Harry's room at headquarters last summer?"

The room Harry had initially shared with Ron just after his birthday was Sirius' childhood bedroom. While cleaning out the house the summer before, Estella had been flabbergasted to find that her father had run away from home and left his school trunk behind. She had yet to understand how a person could be so willing to abandon their old school things as soon as they graduated.

"Yeah, come to think of it, I think I put your old books on the shelves in the library." said Estella. After their clean up, there were quite a few empty places on the shelves of the impressive Black Library from where Sirius and Remus had either destroyed or relocated some of the collection's darker tomes.

The group walked around in comfortable silence until something bright caught their eye. There, standing out amongst the muted, nondescript, poster-plastered shopfronts on either side, was number 93 Diagon Alley.

"Must be a new shop." Remus mused. "They're having opening sales."

Crossing the narrow road to get a closer look, the group saw first the casual passers-by ahead of them that either looked back over their shoulders at the windows, or stopped still in their tracks. Once they were close enough, Tonks, the two Marauders, and their charges could see that the left-hand window was dazzlingly full of an assortment of goods that revolved, popped, flashed, bounced and shrieked. The first to realise what sort of store they were standing before, Sirius' eyes began to twinkle and light up in appreciation. Remus, meanwhile, had been drawn, along with Estella, to the right-hand window, where a Ministry-type poster was characteristically on display. What was different about this particular announcement, however, was immediately apparent. The flashing yellow letters conveyed not a message of warning, but rather, a cleverly marketed advertisement:

_Why Are You Worrying About You-Know-Who?_

_You SHOULD Be Worrying About_

_U-NO-POO – _

_the Constipation Sensation That's Gripping the Nation!_

Coming up beside them, Sirius' eyes flitted over the sign quickly and he began to laugh.

"They'll be murdered in their beds!" Remus whispered dryly, fearful for the owners of the store.

"No they won't!" said Sirius, age seemingly washing away from his face as he eyed the doorway longingly. "This is brilliant! Just what we all need! I wonder what genius thought to open such a store…" he looked up, gaping when he saw the name of the store. "No way!"

Following the amazed Animagus' eyes, the revelation that they were standing in front of a joke store called 'Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes' was met with varying degrees of speculation. Having given his Triwizards winnings to the twins to fund their market venture, Harry was amazed to see an immediate return from his investment. Both he and Estella had caught wind of the twins' plans earlier in the summer, wondering where they'd disappeared off to at all hours, but neither of them could have imagined this.

Following the openly enthused Sirius into the store, a quietly interested Tonks by their side and the observant, but otherwise unassuming Remus bringing up the rear, the teens were unsurprised to find the store packed with customers. Staring around at the brightly coloured boxes that were stacked to the ceilings on all three interior walls, the soon-to-be customers looked at the labels in unmasked curiosity. Sirius, in particular, had gravitated towards a display called 'Skiving Snackboxes', which led Remus to suspect his friend of having a hand in subtly guiding the twins in their invention. Though they'd never quite managed it on such a scale, James and Sirius were known to explore any avenue in their efforts to skive class, including brewing a particularly memorable potion that grounded the entire Quidditch team for a week as they recovered in the Infirmary.

Shaking his head fondly, Remus asserted that the children were safe within the store and allowed himself a look at a lone box of innocent looking sweets called Nosebleed Nougat.

"Ah, so that's how those boys got so many blood noses." Remus mused to himself, having lost count of how many times the twins had sought out their mother with bleeding faces whilst they had all been living under the same roof at headquarters. Judging by how few of the boxes were left on show, Remus surmised that the product must have been extremely popular and, discreetly, he picked the last box off the shelf.

Estella, meanwhile, was finding much interest in a row of bins, each carrying a variety of trick wands. Whilst the cheapest merely turned into rubber chickens or pairs of pants when waved, Estella's attention was drawn to the most expensive on offer, which was promised to beat the unwary user around the head and neck. Picking out several, she by-passed the boxes of quills, which were neatly stacked in rows according to type, and headed towards Harry. Though the Self-Inking quill could have been rather practical; Estella had no illusions that, given the nature of the store – and its assumed proprietors – there had to be a catch.

She found Harry amidst a gaggle of excitable ten year olds who had formed a wrapt audience; their eyes too busy ogling a game demonstration to notice whose company they were presently in. Choosing not to call out his name and draw unwanted attention to the boy-who-lived-to-want-to-hide-from-his-fame, Estella settled for a wave and moved on towards another display on the counter.

"Patented Daydream Charms…" she muttered as she began to read the information on the back of a box bearing a highly coloured picture of a handsome youth and a swooning girl as they stood on the deck of a pirate ship. She read on:

"One simple incantation and you will enter a top-quality, highly realistic, thirty-minute daydream, easy to fit into the average school lesson and virtually undetectable (side effects include vacant expression and minor drooling). Not for sale for under-sixteens."

"Wow," she mused aloud. "That's pretty extraordinary magic!"

"For that, Estella." said a voice behind her, "you can have one for free!"

"But I'm not sixteen." Estella pointed out, almost dropping the box in surprise as she spun around to see the owner of the voice. As suspected, it was one of the twins.

"Ah, but you see," the unidentified twin leant forward and continued in a hush-hush tone. "We had to put that on there to get Mum off our backs…"

"As a rule," the other twin came up beside her, uncannily in tune with what his twin were saying, even though he'd not been anywhere near moments earlier. Estella immediately had the suspicion that this was all part of their sell. "We don't make this product available to those in below sixth year."

"We hate to admit it, but the years leading up to one's O.W.Ls are very important." the first twin who had spoken – which Estella now suspected to be Fred – told her flatly. Without even asking, Estella knew he was imitating the words of his mother. "But, for you, we'll make an exception."

Taking in the sight of the twins as they stood before her, both wearing matching magenta robes that clashed magnificently with their hair, Estella smiled. "How on earth did you convince your parents to let you do this?" she asked curiously. "I mean, you haven't dropped out of school, have you?"

"Nope." Fred assured her. "Though we kind of planned to."

George endeavoured to explain. "Mum finally gave up on trying to put a stop to us experimenting… there wasn't a whole lot she could do once we came of age and could actually start using our wands as well."

Fred looked at his brother before continuing. "With our, er, recent cash investment, we found it prudent to make something of the opportunity; so we came out here and bought a lease on this place."

"Dirt cheap rate we got too." George gloated. "Since most of the folks are thinking of moving on out until the war thing blows over."

"Anyway, Mum didn't find out until we'd already signed the paperwork-" Fred grinned.

"She wasn't too happy when we told her we were going to ditch school." George frowned slightly at the memory. "Though I think part of her was happy to come see what a good job of setting up we'd done."

"I don't recommend Harry tell her where we got our money from, though." Fred suggested. "She is still under the impression that Ludo Bagman repaid us with interest in compensation for that Leprechaun Gold he swindled us with last year at the World Cup."

Nodding understandingly – Estella wouldn't wish the woman's wrath on anyone – she smiled. "So how'd you decide to stick with school, then? How will you run the store from Hogwarts?"

The twins proceeded to tell Estella about a deal their parents had struck with the Headmaster. They'd already hired some staff to man the store during the term, and in return for returning for their final year of classes, their Headmaster and Head of House had arranged for their creations to be graded academically in lieu of regular assignments. Needless to say, most of the teachers were relieved to get the Weasley twins working on something that wouldn't disrupt their class.

"We still have to do the tests and stuff to show that we're at the same level as our classmates." Fred assured her. "We just do different stuff in the practical lessons and submit different assignments."

"And McGonagall has set up for us to use an unused storeroom in the tower to base our research at, isn't that great?" added George enthusiastically.

Estella was immediately glad she was a resident of a different house. Smiling politely, she congratulated the twins on getting their business off the ground and waved her companions over. Harry had already gravitated towards her once he'd seen the twins with her, but the adults were still negotiating the crowds of ten-year-olds. Getting their attention, the adults smiled back at her and waved… something that was not particularly a good idea for Sirius, whose arms were laden with a precarious stack of boxes.

Like the good friend that he was, Remus used his free hand – for he too had something in his hand – to assist Sirius, whilst Tonks dashed back to the front of the store to collect a carry-all basket. The twins, Harry, and Estella could only watch with detached amusement as the bubbly Metamorphagus – whose bubblegum pink hair stood out amongst the swarm of children – made her way back to the two adults, a basket held out in her hand.

"Here you go, Sirius." Tonks thrust the basket at him, though she was still too far away. Misjudging the difference as he balanced a hand out to accept the basket, the pile of boxes swayed forward, and, in darting forth to try and restore balance, Sirius headed straight into his cousin's path, who had yet to stop.

Seeing the imminent collision, Remus had set his own lone box aside in favour of drawing his wand. Aiming it at the flying boxes, he managed to successfully slow down their descent to the ground. Sirius and Tonks were still a tangle of limbs on the floor, the man's prospective purchases hovering overhead, when the teens made their way over to them.

"Can't take you lot anywhere, can we?" Estella shook her head, leaning down to help her father up, only to be pulled down onto the ground with him. "Dad! What the-"

"Shhh!" he cut her off, pointing to the front of the store where a familiar redhead had just entered, a pair of redheads and a bushy-haired brunette slightly behind her. "Weasley alert!"

"She get to you too, eh?" Fred and George looked down at the stricken Animagus in understanding, instinctively standing in front of Harry and Remus, who had since floated Sirius' goods down onto the checkout counter. Tonks, meanwhile, had the luxury of being able to morph her features into someone unrecognisable before standing, drawing attention to herself as the twins subtly gestured for their hidden customers to slip behind the counter and into the screened-off staff area. Having commuted back to Grimmauld Place every night where their mother could ensure their safety and feed them well, the twins knew only too well the furore the master of the household had caused when he had taken off with the children in his care, a werewolf and Metamorphagus in tow. While Dumbledore had been begrudgingly appeased by Sirius' nightly mirror-calls and could not deny the man's ability to keep the saviour of the wizarding world safe, other members of the Order – their mother in particular – took specific offence to the nature of their defiance. In some circles, it was considered sacrosanct to contradict the wizened old Headmaster and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and defy him in any way.

To their relief, Mrs Weasley was merely dropping the teenagers in her care off before moving on to the nearby grocer to pick up her latest order. Ushering their siblings and Hermione into the staff room, they urged Harry and his motley crew out of hiding. Once reunited, the group stopped to take stock.

"What happened to your eye?" Estella asked Tonks, wondering if she could have hurt it in the fall.

"A punching telescope by the window display." said Tonks, rubbing aforementioned eye ruefully.

"Oh, blimey, I forgot about those," said Fred, handing her a small jar of yellow paste that he carried with him. "Don't worry, it'll clear that up within an hour. We should know, we had to test our products on ourselves."

Checking to make sure that the Weasley matriarch had not returned, Fred and George beckoned the group towards the back of the store, down past the Muggle card tricks and the tubs of edible Dark Marks to a mysterious, curtained off area. It wasn't very often that their clientele consisted of a former prisoner, an Auror and a werewolf; and they were keen to get the group's opinions on a range of Shielded apparel.

"I suspect you'll get one in your locker, Tonks." Fred said proudly. "Ministry ordered 500 of them, you know."

"It's amazing how many people don't know a decent shield charm." said George, shaking his head in dismay. "We're getting loads of orders."

"Good." said Sirius, an uncharacteristic firmness crossing his features as he admired the twins' ingenuity. "You boys could very well save lives with such innovation. I hope that mother of yours realises that."

"Oh, she does." Fred said. "We're here now, aren't we?"

"Never thought I'd see the day where we'd actually get a place in one of her good books." George marvelled. "Especially when we're doing something we want to do."

Sidling up to Harry, Fred put his arm around the boy's shoulder and whispered in his ear. "We can't thank you enough for your faith in us, Harry." he said soberly. "It'd have taken us an age to get this off the ground without you."

Though Fred was going to lengths to keep his exchange with Harry private, two sets of ears heard every word. Whilst Remus merely blinked in acknowledgement – for he could hardly be surprised for any son of James being attached to such a venture – and twitched his lips slightly; Sirius, who had been standing quite close to Harry, grinned widely.

"You know," said Sirius conversationally. "If you should ever want to do some collaboration with those Marauders you're so frequently yammering on about, I'm sure Remus and I could set something up, couldn't we, Moony?"

Remus' head jerked up at the name as he caught on. Shrugging nonchalantly, he played along. "Whatever you say, Padfoot." he said, watching the twins carefully as the pieces slid into place.

"Oh my… are you saying what…" stammered Fred.

"What we think you're saying?" continued George, both twins' eyes were wide.

"You're Marauders?" they completed in unison.

"Finally!" Ron exclaimed, backing off slightly when the pair of identical redheads rounded on him accusingly.

"Wait, you knew?" said George.

"You didn't tell us!" said Fred, feigning a hurt tone of voice.

"We all knew." said Ginny in a matter of fact tone. "Get over it."

"Harry…" said George, the twin looking at him for confirmation.

"Estella…" said Fred, doing the same.

"Is it true?" they both asked. Harry and Estella nodded, smirking slightly.

"Surprise?" said Estella.

"That's an understatement!" said Fred, ogling Remus, who was grinning wolfishly. "George, to think, we had Moony as a teacher for a _whole year_ and didn't even know!"

"Well I'd hardly be a Marauder if I let people on to my secret identity." said Remus illusively, inwardly bewildered by the amount of fanfare the antics he and his friends had partaken in during school was getting.

"Okay, okay, okay." said George once the initial shock wore down. "If you're Moony, Professor, and you're Padfoot, Sirius, then who are Wormtail and Prongs?"

"Prongs was my Dad." supplied Harry proudly.

"And if you want to see Wormtail _again_," Estella emphasised the word 'again', knowing it would baffle the two twins, "invite yourself up for tea in Dumbledore's office."

* * *

Revelations over with, the twins delighted in showing the two real-live Marauders the fruits of their labour. From their Instant Darkness Powder, to the Decoy Detonators and their entire Wonder Witch range; the twins wanted the seal of approval on everything, and Sirius and the affable Remus were only too obliging. So caught up were the men in all the attention, that none of them noticed Estella slip away. Having wandered to the front of the store to get a second look at a cage full of Pygmy Puffs, Estella's curiosity was piqued when she saw Lucius and Draco Malfoy slink past the store window, bound for Knockturn Alley.

Knowing that she shouldn't do it, but compelled by some imminent force to investigate what the two Malfoys were up to, Estella followed at a safe distance. Pulling her Kneazle from her shoulder and stowing her away out of sight in a pocket inside her robes, she watched with abstract horror as Draco led Lucius into Borgin and Burkes and pointed out what she knew to be a Vanishing Cabinet. It was not unlike another that her uncle had disabled when she was quite small and he had come across her about to step inside. At the time, Estella had not realised what the fuss was about, and the memory only stuck with her because her uncle had gotten really angry at her when she'd given him her reasons. It had taken her godfather weeks to agree to read the rest of _The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe_ to her and she had to swear that she would not climb into any such cupboard at the school and attempt to will herself away to far away places.

Getting more and more irate as the two Malfoys loomed over the sinister-looking Borgin, intimidating him with their gait and family notoriety, Estella's head was wheeling at the possibilities. If, before it were jinxed, the vanishing cabinet at Hogwarts were in fact a passageway to the matching cabinet the Malfoys were presently inspecting, then the security of Hogwarts could be severely compromised. She knew she ought to have run and told an adult immediately, and yet, because Draco were involved, she held back. Perhaps if she were to just talk to him, she could make him see reason.

Watching as Lucius excused himself and exited the store via the man's sooty Floo connection, Estella saw her chance when an unguarded Draco sauntered out of the store and into the alley. Following him until they were in a more populated area – she wasn't that stupid – Estella supposed that the blond Slytherin was probably on his way to meet his mother. Estella had heard from Harry and Tonks that the woman had been in Madame Malkin's earlier. Harry had been quite impressed with how Tonks had handled herself and made a point of pulling Estella aside and telling her that he no longer wondered how someone like Tonks had become an Auror.

"Hello, Draco." Estella made her presence known, causing the young man to spin on his heels to face her.

"Estella." Draco said coolly, not missing a beat. "What a relief. I'd heard you had gone missing."

"Missing?" Estella cocked a brow. "Why, I knew where I was the entire time! Apologies for not writing more, but I did tell you in my last letter that I would be out of reach."

"Yes, I should have thought to have someone magically seal my correspondence to you," said Draco regretfully. "Though I must say my father was quite perturbed to note I was receiving such secure mail."

"Ah yes, I had a feeling your _father_ would be of the sort to intercept his son's mail." she fought to keep her tone light as she mentioned the man who had caged her like an animal and nearly killed her not even three months before. Drawing attention away from the two-faced aristocrat, Estella strove towards common ground. "I daresay Dumbledore was a bit put out by the gesture. I wouldn't be surprised if that nosey old git hadn't charmed all the post owls to fly via his office so that he may keep abreast of everyone's business."

"That's probably how he seems to know everything." Draco agreed darkly, seemingly unsuspecting of her actual proximity to Dumbledore at the time and under the express assumption that she had gotten an older person to charm the letter sealed on her behalf. "So, anyway, what brings you to this side of the Alley?"

"You." said Estella, not beating around the bush any longer. "I saw you in Borgin and Burke's."

"Oh?" said Draco. "You weren't looking to buy that necklace, were you? I have already put it on hold for my own purposes."

"Necklace?" Estella shook her head, no. "Why, I was more interested as to what you were doing pointing out that cabinet to your father. Surely you have enough furniture at your home?"

"You were following me?" accused Draco haughtily, the alarm on his face faintly visible at the implication that he'd been followed and he'd been none the wiser.

"Is it wrong for me to have wanted to seek you out after having spotted you on the street?" said Estella sweetly. "Surely you can understand why I had to wait for your father to leave before I could make myself known! He and I did not part on very good terms last time we met."

"Oh, oh yes, of course." said Draco. Though he did not truly suspect anything, he was still on his guard. "For your information, I was after a new cabinet to store my potions supply in. You do remember my lab, don't you?"

Several years ago, on one of her few visits to Malfoy Manor with her uncle, Draco had made a point of showing off his ostentatious potions lab. Estella remembered with a fond smile how she had proceeded to find fault with the room and its ability to procure quality brews, and her uncle had backed her up. Seeing her grin, Draco took that as an enviable yes and nodded in confirmation, seemingly satisfied that his inquisitive company had bought his outright lie.

Together they walked for a bit, exchanging neutral small talk, Estella trying to get a sense for what was driving the family-proud Slytherin before she made her next move. "That cabinet doesn't go anywhere, you know," she said finally, refusing to say anything else on the subject.

"What do you know?" snapped Draco, irritated at being caught off guard and confronted with something by someone who clearly knew more than he did.

"More than you." said Estella simply, inhaling sharply as she saw her father stick his head out of the door of number 93 and seek her out. Sighing as the man spotted her and started to run towards her, wand drawn, with her godfather closely behind him, she looked at the defiant Slytherin intently. "Choose your path wisely, Draco," she said, making to leave. "I won't cover for you again."

"What?" asked Draco. Having not noticed Sirius coming up behind him, he unabashedly grabbed Estella by the arm as she tried to side step him and walk away and demanded an explanation. If the fear evident in his eyes was anything as he toyed with the idea of his carefully laid plans being interrupted by the know-all Ravenclaw, it was nothing compared to the unadulterated look of alarm that overtook him when he found himself grabbed by the scruff of the neck by an extremely ticked off ex-fugitive.

"Get. Your. Hand. Off. My. Daughter!" Sirius hissed in the boy's ear, his wand poking in the quivering Slytherin's back. Draco complied immediately and began to whimper.

Not just out of pity, but out of indignation, Estella glared at her father, put out that he should put it upon himself to storm out as he did and accost someone she was trying to have a civil conversation with.

"Was that really necessary?" she asked him as he shoved the reticent boy aside roughly, the quick-tempered Gryffindor visibly fighting against his baser instincts that screamed at him to rid the foul-blooded heir of his ability to sire children. "Draco and I were just talking!"

"It didn't look like that to me!" scowled Sirius, glaring at the boy who, despite his fear, was more afraid to turn his back on the irate father before him and run away without being dismissed.

"I'll have you know that I'm more than capable of taking care of myself!" said Estella caustically. Levelling an equally intense glare at her godfather, who had arrived beside Sirius, for good measure, she turned back towards Draco to apologise on her father's behalf. She'd hardly been able to get past the first few words in the sentence before her father had taken her by the arm firmly and pulled her away from the son of the man who had surrendered her to Voldemort's mercies.

"What do you think you were doing?" snapped Sirius, his voice wavering as the panic and adrenalin from having first lost, then found, his daughter in such company drained from him.

"We've got a problem," said Estella, intending to tell him what she had seen.

"Damn right we've got a problem!" Sirius was yelling now. In the distance, Harry and Tonks had emerged from the joke shop and had frozen in their tracks at seeing the fury on Sirius' face. Remus too, was beside himself.

"You _run off_ without letting anyone know where you were going; good Merlin Estella do you have any idea what it did to your father and me to turn around and not find you there?" said Remus in a shaky tone whilst Sirius gripped her shoulders almost painfully, the distraught father beyond the capabilities of coherent speech. "For all we knew, someone had taken you right from under our noses!"

"I saw-" Estella tried to explain.

"I don't care if you saw Voldemort running down the street in a tutu with a sign on his back that said 'hex me, I'm stupid'!" said Sirius, finding his voice as he began to shake his daughter firmly. "What the hell were you doing with Malfoy? What if Lucius had seen you first?"

"He'd already left!" said Estella. "I'm not stupid!"

"Could have fooled us!" snorted Sirius, almost pushing her back towards the Weasley's shop as he gripped her upper arm fiercely so they could continue their conversation in private. "What were you thinking?"

"Well if you bloody well let me get two words in edgewise!" snapped Estella angrily, her temper frayed by her father's compulsive manhandling of her. "I could tell you! Now will you let go? I am quite capable of walking unassisted."

Coming up alongside her other side, Remus placed his hand firmly, but gently, on the back of her neck. Neither man was willing, at that moment, to so much as let the girl out of their collective sights. Just off to the far reaches of their peripheral vision, the two men could see Narcissa Malfoy fussing over her son, her eyes scanning the gathering crowds for answers.

"I don't appreciate that tone, Estella." said Remus levelly. "And I'm sure, neither does your father. I think we're all – your uncle too – going to be in need of a little chat when we get home."

"Who are you, my father?" snapped Estella, and, upon seeing the crushed look on her godfather's face, she instantly regretted it. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean for it to come out like that-"

"So you should be!" Sirius reprimanded his daughter in a low tone. Pulling her aside and veering away from the entrance of the joke shop just enough so that he could corner her against a wall away from people, Sirius held her in place with one hand splayed on her shoulder whilst his other arm he stretched out behind him, halting Remus in his tracks. Leaning in so that his face were inches from her own, he hissed at her angrily. "_I_ am your father, Estella, and I say Remus had every right to say what he said just now. The man gave up his life to help raise you when I could not-" he held up his hand to cut Estella off as she tried to speak, "- no, Estella, I don't want to hear it. You're sorry now, I can see that; but let me tell you this, if I _ever_ so much as hear you _joke_ about degrading your godfather like that again… you're going to want to prefer an afternoon with Filch over what punishment I would have in store for you."

Satisfied that he had gotten his point across, Sirius let go of his daughter and stepped back slightly. Through the volatile mix of anxiety, fear, anger and worry, Sirius was completely oblivious to the effect his wrath had just had on his child, and as he turned away slightly to calm his breaths and find his resolve for everyone else's benefit, his eyes did not see her quivering lip or trembling form.

Without even realising it, his grip on his beloved daughter had been firm enough to bruise, and it was at these points on her arms that Estella was rubbing at furiously, her lip clenched between her teeth as she fought to keep a hold on her temper. Yes, temper. Estella knew better than to fear her father, for she knew that he would never do anything to harm her. That he had been so blinded by his indignation to, perhaps, come close, filled her with defiance. Losing control like that was, in the eyes of a girl who had been raised by the epitome of masked expressions himself, something of a deplorable weakness. Yet as angry as she was at her father for not even taking the time to listen to her before starting on his tirade and provoking her so, she was doubly angry at herself for being the cause of her father's weakness. That he could abandon all reason like that to come after her the way he did was a liability. Both he, and, to a certain extent, her godfather too, had been entirely oblivious to the crowd around them as they stuck into the wayward teen and it infuriated Estella to think that they could be careless enough to let their guard down like that. She also took offence at how self-righteously authoritative they could be when it had taken them how long exactly to turn their attentions away from their adoring admirers to even notice she was gone? If the men had been keeping an eye on their surroundings instead of indulging the Weasley twins their full attention, she wouldn't have been the only one to see the Malfoy men scurrying down Diagon Alley like the cockroaches caught in sunlight that they were.

"We'll talk more about this when we get home." her father promised her, his voice a little calmer now as he reached out to grab her arm again, this time to guide her a little bit more sedately towards the others.

Sick of being manhandled, Estella shrugged her arm out of her father's grip and stood her ground. "To hell we will!" she snapped. It was her turn to showcase just how much of her father's temper she had inherited. "I was only trying to help, and you make it sound like I turned in my wand to Voldemort and dared him to do his best!" her hand flew to her pendant as she made her decision. "Last time I checked, Dad, it wasn't me who needed rescuing from my own stupidity!" – she was, of course, referring to Sirius' fall during the full moon – "I've been in Voldemort's company twice now, and both times I got away without any help from the likes of you! I am more than capable of handling _Draco_ Malfoy." Sirius could only gape at the blunt accuracy of his daughter's words as she went on. "If this is how you're going to act every time I follow my intuition and try to do something that will help us beat the Dark Lord, then you can bloody well fight this goddamn war on your own. I've had enough!"

Then, before Sirius could even realise what was happening, Estella wrapped her hand around her pendant, muttered an inaudible word, and vanished.

* * *

To make matters worse for the astonished father and bewildered werewolf as they stared at the spot their beloved girl had last stood, their earlier disturbance had lured the attentions of one Molly Weasley. The overprotective mother-hen had only caught the part of the confrontation where Sirius was being physically intimidating over his daughter. With that image burned clean in her mind, she did not hesitate to give the remorseful Animagus a thorough chewing out. After losing his temper yet again and almost pulling his wand on the interfering woman, Sirius had to be literally dragged away by Remus.

"Come on," he said, pulling the simmering man towards the closest watering hole. "Tonks is going to take Harry and head back to headquarters with Molly and the kids. Estella's undoubtedly there now cooling off in her room, so what's say we go drown our sorrows in a bottle of Fire Whiskey before we have to head on back ourselves and face the music, hmmm?"

"Oh sure, great idea, Moony." drawled Sirius, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Roll up drunk, that'd really go over well."

"I didn't say we had to go drink to get plastered," said Remus shortly. "But I don't know about you, but I could go at least two rounds to get my heartbeat back down to a steady rhythm."

"A calming draught would do that just as effectively," said Sirius distractedly, both men able to picture Estella saying such a thing to them if she were there.

"Ah, yes." nodded Remus. "But that's hardly as satisfying, is it? Now come on."

The Leaky Cauldron was, they were quick to note, empty for the first time since before James and Lily had died. Only Tom, the landlord, wizened and toothless, remained of the old crowd. He looked up hopefully as they entered, his face lighting up as the weary men made themselves comfortable on stools at the far end of the bar and beckoned him over. Ordering several shots of Ogden's finest and a pint of Butterbeer to chase it with, the man sat in companionable silence as they waited for their drinks.

"What have I done?" asked Sirius, his hands compulsively reaching for the bowl of peanuts that sat on the bar; though he pulled his hand back at the last moment for there was no telling just how long those nuts had been sitting out for. "You heard her, Moony, she probably hates me."

"Don't assume anything, Sirius." said Remus, though even a deaf man would have been able to hear the doubt in his tone. "You'll only make an ass of you and me."

"That's so old, old man," quipped Sirius, throwing caution to the wind and picking out some peanuts anyway.

"For what it's worth," said Remus hesitantly. "Thanks for sticking up for me like that. I'm so used to being the one to take the hard line with her, I sometimes forget that you're here to do that now. You'd tell me if I were stepping on your toes, though, wouldn't you?"

Sirius nodded half-heartedly, his mind elsewhere. "I was too hard on her," admitted Sirius. "I shouldn't have leapt down her throat like that. I was just so… so… so…"

"Scared?" supplied Remus.

Sirius nodded and buried his head in his hands. His next words were muffled. "What do you think possessed her to go after Malfoy like that?" he asked. Scrubbing at his face irritably, he looked to his friend for answers. "Surely she knew we would worry?"

"That's something we're going to have to ask her when we get back." shrugged Remus, nodding his acknowledgement to Tom as he wordlessly plonked their drinks down in front of them before granting them some privacy once more. Taking a long sip from his Butterbeer, he huffed. "I never thought I'd catch myself saying it, but I'm thinking it's probably a good thing the kids are heading back to school in the morning."

Slamming back his Fire Whiskey determinedly, Sirius washed it down with half his glass of Butterbeer before wiping the froth from his face with his sleeve and looking at his friend miserably. "For Merlin's sake, Moony, don't remind me." said Sirius, reaching for some more nuts. "I don't want to pack my kid off on the train with this hanging between us."

"I know you don't, Sirius," said Remus sombrely. "I don't want that anymore than you do. We'll sort it out when we get back, I know we will."

"Like we will even get up the stairs before some do-good Order member hexes us and drags us into the kitchen for a emergency meeting." groaned Sirius, both wanting to rush back to headquarters to be with his daughter and simultaneously wanting to get as far away from his parents' former home as possible.

"I'm sure they'll indulge us this once," said Remus, the unspoken reality of the Order members not wanting a family to be divided upon parting anymore than they did themselves. In instances of war it was always a possibility when parents packed their children off to school for the term, it could be the last time they saw each other. Almost everyone in the Marauder's graduating class had lost someone close to them – a parent, grandparent, aunt or uncle – during their time at Hogwarts and had experienced the dreaded summons to the Headmaster's office to hear the news. Yes, Dumbledore would be only too willing to permit them time to sort things out with Estella before seeing to anything else. If they were lucky, they'd get away from having to answer to the Order until after the children were safely on the train and on their way.

* * *

No sooner had Estella arrived in her bedroom at Grimmauld Place, was she greeted by an enthusiastic house elf.

"Mistress is home at last!" Kreacher bowed lowly at her feet, the sneaky elf having been able to detect the close proximity of one of the house's heirs. "Horrible blood traitors and half-bloods in the noble house of Black, Mistress! They is been trying to tell Kreacher what to do!"

"Now, now, Kreacher." said Estella condescendingly. "You know I cannot do anything about orders my father gives you. If he asked you to follow the orders of his guests, I can only hope for your sake that you complied."

"Oh yes, Mistress." Kreacher nodded furiously. "Kreacher is been doing what he is being told, but Kreacher did not do it well like he would for his Mistress."

"Of course not, Kreacher." Estella rolled her eyes. "Now, is there any particular reason why you came into my room, Kreacher?"

The bug-headed house elf tugged at his raggedly scrap of clothing and started punching himself hard on the chest. "Kreacher is sorry, Mistress. Kreacher came only to greet Mistress. Kreacher is bad elf for not waiting until good Mistress be calling for him! Kreacher be asking for his punishment gladly."

"Oh give it a rest, Kreacher," snapped Estella. In some strange, perverse way, she was almost endeared by the house elf's weird little fixation. "It's a good thing you came. Can you tell me who is here?"

"The meddling old coot who is leaving sticky fingers all over Mistress' fine silver is being in the study with his friend." Kreacher told her, and Estella could not help but think of what Dumbledore's own mother had done when the lemon drop-obsessed sweet tooth had been young. Images of a three-foot tall wizard running around on a sugar high expressly came to mind, but Estella found she was more amused by the image of Dumbledore without a beard more than anything else. "Kreacher is sorry but he is not knowing who Dumbledore's friend is. Kreacher is suspecting Mistress knows him. They is saying your name, Mistress. Kreacher is not knowing what they is planning for you Mistress. Kreacher could not get through the wards."

Losing interest in finding out whom else was in the house, Estella's attention was immediately drawn to the revelation that Dumbledore was currently in residence, conducting a private meeting with someone in the study, like he owned the place. Emptying her pockets of her shrunken goods – she would have to find someone to enlarge them for her later – Estella deposited Skunk in his new basket and crossed the room to the door.

"Take me to them, Kreacher." she said fearlessly. "I want that man to see that he cannot get away with talking about me behind my back in this, the noble house of Black!"

"Kreacher is honoured to stand by Mistress' side!" the house elf squeaked, pulling himself up to his full height, leading the way with an air of importance. Reaching the study door, the house elf stopped. "Kreacher is not able to open the door for Mistress. The wizard that is vexing Mistress so is locking it with his magic behind Kreacher."

Smirking, Estella closed her eyes in concentration and placed her hand on the door knob. She would be damned if she knocked on the door in her family's home when she was the only member of said family present. To her surprise, Dumbledore's magic put up no resistance to her force of will against the wards, and the door swung open. Having evidently felt when his wards were torn down, Dumbledore had stood and faced the door, anticipating her arrival.

"Why good afternoon, Estella." said Dumbledore congenially. "We were just talking about you! Why won't you join us?"

The 'us' Dumbledore was referring to, as Estella came to see as she moved further into the room, was none other than Benson Ollerton.

"Hello, Miss Black!" Benson stood quickly – well as quickly as he could since he still relied rather heavily on a cane after his encounter with Lucius Malfoy three months previously. His recovery had been long and painful, and had come precariously close to dying several times.

Shortly after the events of the third task, Estella had written to the man whose identity had been stolen for the purpose of luring her out of the school and apologised for being the reason Lucius Malfoy sought him out. Benson, in turn, had written back equally apologetic for being caught unaware by the blond Slytherin and not being able to warn them in time of the impostor. A short, polite exchange of correspondence had followed in the weeks prior to Estella's relocation to Order Headquarters, and so, had it not been for the suspicious circumstances, Estella would have been quite pleased with the company. Instead, she accepted his outstretched hand stiffly and looked at the headmaster in suspicion.

Benson, meanwhile, was completely affable and unaffected by her wariness. "So nice to see you again! I cannot thank you enough for your kind letters. It has been ever so long since anyone has written to me so candidly." he paused, and someone Estella just knew the old man were thinking of his late daughter. "I trust you had a nice holiday?"

"It was agreeable, Mr Ollerton." said Estella stiffly, her eyes not leaving the headmaster. "You are well?"

"Never better!" said Benson. "And please, call me Benson. If I may call you Estella?"

She nodded. Seeing her eyes on him, Dumbledore offered an explanation.

"Benson and I have just been discussing an exciting business proposal," said Albus. "In fact, your timing could not have been better."

"Oh, let me guess," said Estella dryly, "you want brooms for the Order and you want my help?"

Dumbledore clasped his hands together happily, relieved that he would not have to explain things in detail. Assuming that the girl before him would be jumping through hoops at the opportunity to be helping him with his plans, he began to tell her how things would work.

"I've taken the liberty of speaking to your teachers and clearing some time on your school schedule," said the Headmaster. "Benson has so kindly offered to provide any raw materials you require, and it goes without saying that you have Hogwarts facilities at your disposal."

"Wait a minute," said Estella firmly, wagging her finger at the older of the two men. "How dare you just assume that I would go along with this! I've just had my head chewed off because I tried to involve myself in a grown up's job; I don't need this right now."

"I can assure you that your father will be quite agreeable with your decision to cooperate." said Dumbledore. "When I mentioned it to him last week he was quite proud of the fact that you would be able to contribute to our effort in such a significant way. With customised brooms at our disposal, you could be saving lives!"

"Wait, you've spoken to my father about this?" Estella let the question hang as her eyes darkened. How could her father make these sort of decisions for her without discussing them with her first? She was sure they were over that now. Turning towards the confused looking businessman, Estella frowned apologetically. "I'm sorry Mr Ollerton – _Benson_ – but I am afraid the headmaster has called you out here under a misapprehension."

"Why don't you want to do it?" Dumbledore demanded, the old wizard finding himself in the position where he's just wasted the time of a close personal friend and not liking the feeling one bit.

"Why should I?" asked Estella. "With all due respect, Professor, I don't answer to you – outside school, that is – and you can't make me."

"Why, I would have thought any young witch such as you would be jumping at the opportunity to actively help her loved ones win the war against Voldemort." Albus frowned, not entirely comfortable at being confronted with a child he could not predict. "By no means are we here to coerce you to do anything you do not want to do; I am merely afraid that I was rather erroneous in my assumption that you would want to save lives…"

"Don't even try playing that card with me, Headmaster." said Estella coolly. "My uncle taught me better than to follow in his stead. If the skies were to be a danger to your precious Order Members, then send them on foot. Don't hold it over me, because it won't work."

"Very well." said Dumbledore, assuming a chair behind Estella's grandmother's desk and flexing his fingers into a steeple below his chin. "What will it take to get your assistance on this matter?"

Rising herself to her full height, Estella considered her options. She could either hold out on the headmaster out of principle, and then somewhere down the line the blundering old coot could send her father and godfather into aerial battle on ordinary brooms that could get them killed, or she could name her price. Thinking of how much Ravenclaws valued knowledge over almost all else, Estella smirked smugly.

"You agree that what you are asking of me is far and beyond what any child should be called upon to do?" she said slyly.

"Why yes." said Albus, falling neatly into her trap. "I imagine I would not ask this of most adults."

"So you agree that you are bestowing me with a very grown up responsibility?" she sought clarification.

Nodding, the wizened old man smiled encouragingly. "And I have every faith you will be able to handle it admirably."

"Excellent," said Estella, her smile resembling that of a cat who had just caught the canary. "Now, for my conditions…"

END CHAPTER: UNUSUAL WELCOMES

NEXT CHAPTER: UNUSUAL REQUESTS

DUE: 13th December

A/N: From now on I will be using the Review Reply feature on to respond to any questions reviewers may have. If you are not signed in, but still have something you wish to discuss, you will have to leave your e-mail in the appropriate box when leaving an anonymous review: E-mail addresses supplied within the body of a review are scrambled by server.


	10. Unusual Requests

**Updated: Saturday December 17 2005**

**Chapter 10: Unusual Requests**

"No, absolutely not!"

The majority of the Order was vehemently against admitting two under-aged students into their ranks. Estella's demands, however, were clear, and she was not willing to compromise. If she were expected to supply the Order with special brooms – which, as Benson had explained to her, are best made from scratch if the charms are to have any chance of lasting – then she had a right to be kept informed of the Order's goings on. Though Estella was reluctant to name specific examples, the stubborn Ravenclaw was aware – on account of veiled grumbling from her father and cousin to that effect – of several actual Order members whose case load amounted to but a fifth of what was being asked of her. She resented being denied on account of age alone, and, in submitting her conditions, she had been sure to include Harry. The boy, after all, was expected to be some miraculous saviour all because of a prophecy made by none other than the ridiculous Trelawney, and yet the adults were all of the delusion that he should have a 'normal' childhood. Right, like being raised away from the wizarding world to escape the fame and spending ten of the first eleven years of his life living in a cupboard could ever be considered normal! That's not even considering the plethora of 'normal' childhood experiences he'd been subjected to ever since, what, with Dark Lords, Basilisks, Trolls, Dragons and wrongly accused godfathers and all.

In the end, Dumbledore had no choice but to support Estella's decision to apply for membership. Harry too, once he had returned with Tonks and the Weasleys, was keen to join once he'd been called in to 'talk sense' into Estella. That Dumbledore intended to call upon the young Gryffindor's help with 'pressing matters' during the school term only strengthened the resolve of both teenagers. At first, Albus humoured both children without commitment, inwardly hopeful that their guardian would know better than to give his consent. Fresh from a drinking binge and riddled with guilt for their very public 'wobbly' in Diagon Alley, both men were, however, demonstrably reluctant to draw the girl's ire.

As much as they all hated to admit it, Estella's arguments were sound. Being an Order member did not automatically throw a person's life in danger. The whole nature of the membership was that those outside the organisation's alumni were unaware that the 'old crowd' even existed. Only those who were visibly in the front line in the stance against Voldemort were at risk. Missions were allocated according to circumstance and ability, and, if what was already expected of the pair was anything to go by, there were plenty of things the two could do amongst the student body without drawing any undue attention upon themselves. What's more, they didn't have to worry about reprisals from the Dark Lord for their joining – Voldemort was already out for their blood.

No, the general consensus of the convened conglomerate of Order members was not the disagreement about how safe the children would be amongst their ranks, but rather, how inappropriate it would be to expose them to the privileged information that embodied the typical meeting. Those members that were parents – the ones with red hair in particular – were concerned that if word got around that two children were already members, then all children would want to join. Paranoid old Aurors (especially those with wooden legs) were of the mind that children were unreliable and incapable of keeping the Order's secrets. Becoming an Order member was not something to be taken lightly, after all.

"Who is to say we would want to tell our friends of our involvement?" Estella argued, levelling her eyes at one wizard who had questioned their ability to protect the integrity of the secret organisation. "If you were aware of the circumstances surrounding my childhood with my uncle, you would see ample evidence of my ability to keep such secrets." She turned to Harry. "I respected my father's wishes not to tell Harry of the prophecy, didn't I? And as for Harry, what do you think he'd have to gain from telling others what he knows? He already gets enough unwanted attention as it is."

"Well how would you attend meetings during the term?" another witch asked, trying to find a flaw in the teenager's proposition.

"The same way Professor Dumbledore and my uncle do," said Estella. "Very carefully."

Catching her uncle's eye as she said that, Estella was rewarded to see the corners of the man's mouth twitch upwards ever so slightly. She had guessed correctly that the narrow-faced woman was not one of her uncle's favourite people.

"I think you may find that as young people, we could offer a very fresh and unique perspective of things," suggested Harry diplomatically. "Especially when it comes to issues that would directly affect us."

Whether they found merit in his argument, or were simply blinded by his reputation as the Boy-Who-Lived, neither teenager was sure, but several heads began nodding in agreement.

"I cannot believe that this is even being considered!" an extremely old, indignant looking man protested. "These are children! Irrespective of the gravity of what is being asked of them, they should do what their elders tell them to do, without question; and certainly without these little ultimatums!"

An equal number of the older members began nodding and muttering agreement with the new speaker's claims.

"If her guardians give their consent, then I don't see a problem," said Kingsley, in a surprising show of support. "You cannot deny that between those three-" at this he pointed towards Sirius, Remus and Severus "- that between these three, the kid isn't pushing for this blindly."

"And who said that all adults are suited for raising children?" said Molly Weasley shrilly. "I don't have anything against you, Sirius, I am only concerned for the children's welfare… maybe if you had raised these children since infancy, you would realise just how young they still are."

"Tell me this, Molly," Sirius shot back. "Hasn't it ever occurred to you to wonder why when your boys fly the nest, they flee as far as they can? Egypt? Romania, is it? And isn't that one with glasses working for the Ministry? Tell me, Molly, when was the last time he spoke to you?"

Seeing the look of horror on Molly Weasley's face, Estella wanted to whoop and give her father a high five. Arthur, meanwhile, had risen to his feet to defend his wife.

"Now look here, Sirius," the normally calm and quietly spoken Arthur Weasley said firmly. "My wife has valid concerns for these children's welfare. She doesn't deserve to be spoken to in that way."

"And I don't deserve to be judged on every goddamn parenting decision that I make!" spat Sirius. "Turn about is fair play, Molly. Either learn to fly or don't play Quidditch."

Several of the younger Order members looked as though they had just found a new messiah. It appeared that many people had been coddled by Molly Weasley over the years and, until now, no one had succeeded in dressing her down. Feeling the eyes of reverence on him, Sirius stood and pulled himself up to his full height. His eyes finding Estella's he directed his next statement at her.

"Standing before us are two of the most resourceful, brave, and determined young people I know," he said soberly – sobering charms were good for that. "They have already demonstrated that they can get themselves out of situations that I seriously doubt most of the people in this room-" he looked at Molly "-could even hope to survive. Now, in exchange for services that Dumbledore has assured us only they can provide, they have rightfully requested admittance into our ranks-" he looked at Estella intently "-and who am I to deny that?"

"Are you suggesting that we treat these children as our equals? As our peers?" the indignant man got back up on his soap box.

"Why not," said Harry, not missing a beat. "Voldemort has already marked me as his equal."

"Yeah, and how many of you can say you've danced with the devil and lived to kiss and tell?" Estella added colourfully, then, seeing how many of them had cringed at the mention of the Dark Lord's name, she shook her head. "Look at yourselves, cringing at a name! Pathetic! To think Voldemort isn't even his real name anyway…"

Dumbledore, who had until this point remained silent, was sitting at his place at the head of the table with a whimsical smile on his face. He'd not been to such a lively meeting since these young people's parents were all alive. Whether the older constituents of the Order wanted to admit it or not, the fight against the evil of the world was shifting into the hands of the next generation. Perhaps the wheels were starting to turn a little sooner than anticipated, but why put off inevitability? Having taught and governed over the likes of Estella Black and Harry Potter for well over a century, Albus Dumbledore knew better than most that the question of age and authority would not stop them. It was better for them to be a part of the action where adults could watch over them closely, than for the children to go behind their backs and allow trouble to find them. Casting his eyes over his loyal circle, Albus was more than well aware that what these two children had to offer outstripped anything many of the other Order members, combined, could ever hope to contribute. Rising to his feet slowly, he held out his arms in a call for attention.

"This arguing is not going anywhere," he said. "It is time to take the usual procedure… who doth nominate these two individuals before us?"

Everyone looked at Sirius to make the first move. Talking about it, and actually solidifying his consent were two different things. Sirius, meanwhile, looked to the headmaster knowingly.

"Ah, good man, Sirius," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. "If you would all recall, a candidate's family are not entitled to nominate their kin."

"I'll nominate the spirited little buggers," Kingsley Shacklebolt raised his hand stoically.

"Duly noted," nodded Dumbledore. "A second?"

"I'll second," a woman's voice Estella did not recognise volunteered from the far side of the room.

"Ah, excellent," said Dumbledore, looking positively pleased to be moving on to the next step. "Now, Harry, Estella… would you prefer a closed ballot, or an open vote?"

Harry looked at Estella as though to ask, 'there's a vote?' Fighting the urge to roll her eyes at him, Estella had to forgive the boy for his naiveté. Sometimes it was easy to forget that he wasn't raised in the wizarding world and spent most of his time with Muggles, locked in a cupboard. Taking the lead, Estella answered for them both.

"Open vote," said Estella levelly. "Why hide out intentions? We're all friends here."

"Very well," said Dumbledore. "Ladies and gentleman, if you would please-"

"I object!" Severus Snape stood suddenly, and Estella had to fight the urge to scream. In some abstract part of her mind, she could see her uncle at her wedding, leaping up and causing a stir when the priest called upon the congregation for someone with a reason why she should not get married. Knowing her uncle, he'd be able to find a fault in just about everyone – that's if he hasn't done a job of running them off before the exchange of vows. She settled for a thinly veiled glare.

"Yes, Severus," said Dumbledore patiently, a coy smile playing at his lips.

"I wish to propose that we vote for the candidates separately," said Severus. "They are, after all, two different people."

"I believe that should be up to them," said another.

Suddenly, all eyes were on them. Harry and Estella looked at each other in silent question. It was very likely that Severus requested that the Order vote for each of them separately because he would never consider voting for Harry. At the same time, it was possible that people would only vote for Harry because he was who he was, and that as a relative unknown, Estella would not be able to get enough votes by herself. For Severus to suggest such a thing, therefore, would meet all the illusive Slytherin's objectives: he wouldn't have to vote for Harry, and by voting for Estella he'd be showing his support for his niece without assuring her a position in the Order. Knowing, though, that to have their votes counted as one would always shadow over her with the unanswered question of 'was she really good enough without Harry', Estella stood her ground.

"Very well," she said politely. "I accept the proposal and wish to be counted separately, if you will."

"But Estella," Harry found his voice, and leaned into her ear, "what if I get in and you don't?"

"Then I'll have more time to, what's that they said –" she gestured broadly to the cluster of members who had voiced their objections "- twiddle my thumbs and play with my Gobstones like a normal little girl." She locked eyes with Dumbledore and shrugged; her threat implicit: no Order, no broomsticks. "And so what, if you don't get in, you'll have more time for your Quidditch and… Potions homework."

"You make it sound as though you don't even want to be members!" a scrawny, straw-haired wizard shook his thumb at them. "This is not a game! Do you have any idea of the commitment you will be prescribing yourselves to…"

"With all due respect, sir," said Estella. "I know full well what I am doing! You ask me if I want to be a member. Yes, yes I do. Do I want to be a normal teenager, yes, I want that too. I'd be stupid not to," she paused, slightly disorientated when she became aware of the fact that she had began to pace up the length of the room. "The point is, ladies and gentleman, is that Harry and I are not normal teenagers. We never have been, and we never will be. You can debate the hows and whys of that until the Chudley Cannons win the World Cup-" several Quidditch-savvy members of the audience snorted and chuckled at the implied joke, and Estella waited for them to settle before continuing. "I'm not here to state my case. All I know is that normal fifteen year old wizards don't carry the fate of the wizarding world on their shoulders; and that fourth year students don't normally moonlight as broom makers. We didn't ask for these responsibilities, and yet they are expected of us," she moved to stand beside Harry once again. Then, taking a line out of her father's book, she threw her arm around Harry's shoulder and smirked. "Turn about is only fair."

Looking around the room as she finished her little impromptu speech, Estella was elated to see many mouths agape in shock. Those that apparently knew her mother began muttering amongst themselves about apples falling off the tree, whilst members of the Ravenclaw alumni were nodding their heads in appreciation. Molly, meanwhile, was staring at her as though she had grown an extra head, and Estella could almost see the woman blaming the fact that she'd had to 'grow up so quickly' on the absence of a mother's apron strings to hide behind. Any minute now, Estella was expecting the woman to storm on over and gather her up in a bone crushing hug, smothering her with an overly large bosom and filling her ears with patented sympathy. Shaking her head at the image, Estella shrugged it off. There were, after all, only three people whose reaction mattered.

Finding her uncle's face first, she saw his usual mask of indifference. She could tell by his eyes, however, that he was smugly revelling in her behaviour and was proud of the fact that she hadn't let Dumbledore guilt her into doing something without retribution. Of all the men in her life, her Uncle Severus was perhaps the most level headed and logical when it came to her wellbeing. Estella knew that he would accept her place in the Order unconditionally because he trusted her instincts and knew that she would never agree to anything foolhardy or dangerous. Of course, Estella didn't doubt that the man would much rather prefer it if her father and Remus had made the relocation to the French countryside permanent – thus removing her from both Voldemort's and Dumbledore's clutches entirely – but he was also of the sort to admit first that life was never fair.

Remus, unsurprisingly, was looking stunned and rather lost – no doubt he was mourning the fact that she was not the little girl he'd carry on his shoulder anymore. Beside him, Estella noted that her father was looking at her oddly, the resigned expression on his face lined with remorse and regret. Remembering how she'd parted from her father earlier in the day and, specifically, what she had said to him, Estella figured that her father was reticent because she was his daughter and it was hard for him to accept that how she'd come to turn out had very little to do with his influence. She knew that all the man had ever wanted was to find a purpose in her life and to be there for her. By being so independent and getting herself in and out of trouble, it made him feel insecure.

Though she would have been rather annoyed had her father not first given his consent to this at the beginning of the meeting, part of her almost wanted him to step up and say no. When she played back his actions in her mind, sometimes she wasn't so sure he realised that he could. 'Who am I to deny that' he had asked. The startling thought that her father had perhaps gone from being dependent on Dumbledore for answers to giving her unequivocal control over her life simply because he still did not trust himself enough to make the right decisions alarmed her. It seemed there would be an awful long list of things she and her father would need to speak about before the train left for Hogwarts in the morning.

Estella had been so lost in her thoughts, that she had been totally unaware of the vote taking place. Surprisingly, very few people objected to either appointment. Whether it was because of the impression they had left, or because many members were reluctant to go against something Dumbledore had so clearly condoned, the teens would probably never know for sure. All that mattered was that they did it, they were in. After signing the charter and taking their vows, Dumbledore stood to officiate their enrolment with a charm that would tie them to the order and inform them of when a meeting was being held.

Summoning Fawkes, Dumbledore explained how each new member was assessed by the Phoenix itself; with only the pure of heart being bestowed with a feather. Now, Fawkes didn't give a feather to every member – only five members had ever passed Fawke's ultimate test; and two of them were now dead and another, as good as. While those without Fawkes' blessing were not degraded in any fashion, those that did have the Seal of the Phoenix were afforded greater confidences than the average member. They were, to use a Death Eater analogy, the basis for Dumbledore's inner-circle.

Flying first to Harry, Fawkes sat on his shoulder whilst everyone waited anxiously. Of anyone deserving of Fawkes' trust and allegiance, surely the Boy-Who-Lived was the most worthy. When the gallant Phoenix failed to procure a feather, however, and instead started singing shrilly, all eyes turned to Dumbledore for answers. While the old man seemed at a loss – something that came as a great surprise to him if his facial expression were anything to go by – Estella felt as though she knew what to do.

"Hold out your wand, Harry," she sidled up to the boy and whispered in his ear. Dumbledore immediately gave her an astonished look before nodding, a new sense of understanding evident in his eyes.

Doing what Estella had suggested, Harry held up his wand. Swooping down, Fawkes perched on the end of the chair in front of Harry and rested his head on the boy's wrist; causing the skin wrapped around the wand to glow. Job apparently over, the majestic bird took to flight again, this time landing on Estella's shoulder. Harry, meanwhile, had transferred his wand to his other hand so as to inspect his palm, on which the fading outline of a feather could be seen. Upon closer inspection, his wand handle now displayed the intricate etchings of a Phoenixes' feather. Again, people looked to Dumbledore for answers.

"Ah, of course," the old man said, his infernal eyes twinkling. "I should have realised it sooner. You already have your feather, Harry."

"Your wand core," said Estella, to which Harry nodded mutely. Those that were more intimately aware of Harry's wand connection to Voldemort's were inwardly curious as to what the great bird would do in the Dark Lord's case. The more imaginative around the table sported satisfied grins at the imagery of Fawkes causing Riddle's wand hand and wand to spontaneously combust.

Fawkes, now on Estella's left shoulder, had started to sing again. Though she could not interpret what the bird was saying, she somehow knew what the bird wanted her to do. Holding out her wand hand in front of the great bird, she watched in fascination as the beautiful creature leant over her hand and shed a single tear on her palm. The salty pearl fell on the crease of her lifeline, causing the fold to glow gold and seemingly expand in length. When the light faded, Estella could faintly make out a slight tear-shaped ridge in the middle of her lifeline that had not been there before. Having read up a little on Phoenixes during her stay at Hogwarts, Estella had a strong feeling that the giving of a tear in such instances meant a bit more than the gift of a feather. By the looks on some of the adult's faces, she would hazard that they had assumed that too.

All of a sudden, Fawkes, who was still perched on Estella's shoulder, burst into flames, the magical fire quickly spreading to enclose Estella. By now, most of the adults had risen from their chairs in a mix of curiosity, awe and outright alarm. At first, Estella had cringed, her mind waiting for the pain that would render her body to ash. When she felt nothing but rejuvenated – a soothing, tingly rush of magic seeping into her every core – she smiled broadly, alleviating the looks of unadulterated terror on her father and godfather's faces.

When it was over, all of Fawkes' ash had somehow ended up in a neat pile in her palm. Frozen to the spot, Estella could only watch in fascination as the ash began to crumble away and move to reveal a baby Fawkes. Before anyone could comment, the baby bird disappeared in a flash – headed, presumably, to his perch in Dumbledore's office in order to grow.

Dumbledore claimed to not know what it all meant – that not enough was known about the great bird to understand all the things it did. Something by the way the man now looked at her, however, told a different story. Estella could not put her finger on it, but it was almost as though Dumbledore now saw her as some sort of kindred. She had a feeling she could probably ask anything of the man now and he would comply. Her smile getting wider and wider, Estella started to feel giddy, realising only when Harry had slapped her on the back in concern that she had been holding her breath for goodness knows how long.

"I think I need to sit down," was all she could say. Several people around the room laughed nervously. After what they had just seen, Estella wasn't the only once in need of a little regrouping.

Before Estella could sit, however, tradition had to follow its course. Though there were several empty chairs around the table, two new chairs were conjured for them. The old chairs, as Dumbledore explained gravely, represented Order members who had died since the last meeting. They were to remain empty as a mark of respect for the duration of the meeting before being transfigured into doves and set free at dawn the following day. It was then that Estella decided that Albus Dumbledore may be a meddling old coot, but he was also a sentimental old coot too.

Touched by the gesture of respect – for the resigning of the chairs was very symbolic in that it implied that no member was replaceable – Estella and Harry stood patiently whilst they were properly introduced to each individual member. Each teenager was then formally invited to take their rightful chair at the table in what was a very ceremonious and embellished recital of etiquette.

The meeting now formally underway, a summary of recent events were relayed to the group, inclusive of suspected Death Eater activity, captures and deaths. Because, as new members, Harry and Estella had no mission to report on, neither teenager had much opportunity to contribute during the meeting; but that is not to say that they did not listen intently. Some of the warier members were a little hesitant to divulge sensitive details of their assignments in the presence of minors. A few times Molly Weasley made strange noises as though to encourage the more graphic reporters to censor the tone of their delivery, but the teens were hopeful that all would get over their respective hang ups.

To prevent other students and staff from becoming suspicious, it was very unlikely for both teens to be present at an Order meeting at the same time during the term. A strategic allocation of detentions and scheduling of either private tutoring or co-curricular activities would account for their respective absences, but it was most advantageous to have the teens attend meetings on a rotational basis so as to ensure that both teenagers were habitually missing at the same time. Whichever child that remained at the school would listen in on the meeting in one of two ways… either with the two-way mirror (Estella) or through a special charm on his wand (Harry).

At the end of the meeting, mission directives were issued. Estella was to familiarise herself with the practicalities of using the knowledge she'd been charged with keeping intact – liaising with Benson Ollerton and working towards designing a fleet of brooms for Order members. Harry's assignment was rather more ambiguous. He was to get close to the newest member of the Hogwarts staff for purposes of extracting a certain piece of information from him. Who the new teacher was, and what exactly Harry had to find out, were matters Dumbledore refused to reveal until after the Opening Feast – he didn't want to spoil the annual surprise, he said.

To Estella's dismay, Remus was being sent deep undercover, commissioned to infiltrate the isolated werewolf colonies to try and dissuade them from joining Voldemort. Such an assignment more than likely meant that he would not be able to write to her during the term and, most importantly, that he would have to go without his Wolfsbane. To express her fears and make a scene, however, Estella knew to be folly if she wanted to play with the big girls and boys. Instead, she found herself filled with a remarkable sense of pride and admiration for her godfather's bravery.

Looking at the man's face, however, Estella was hardened to note that Remus didn't particularly look happy with the mission, and it was then that Estella remembered that most all of the Order members were in some way tied or indebted to Dumbledore. Remus, for example, had been assured an education without prejudice because of the headmaster's 'understanding'. Severus had been exonerated from Azkaban and given a position within the school that had kept both himself and Estella safe. As for the Weasleys, Estella thought of the Twins; and to her father, Dumbledore turned a blind eye to his status as a fugitive, helping to keep Sirius hidden until Pettigrew could be found.

Severus had to discover what it was Voldemort wanted Draco Malfoy to do. Apparently, all Severus had been able to discover was that Lucius had asked Voldemort for some sort of favour and, as a return gesture, implicated Draco in something. Knowing better than to show her uncle up in front of the entire Order, Estella made a mental note to corner her uncle as soon as the meeting were over to tell him what she saw.

In the meantime, Sirius' role was to keep a low profile. Though the general public more or less knew of the Ministerial Pardon – if you could call it that since technically he had been held in Azkaban all those years without trial and ensuring his freedom was simply a matter of dropping the charges against him – the public exposure his escape and emancipation got respectively meant that he couldn't start another job without drawing attention. His mission directives, therefore, were rooted in research retrieval and Muggle relations. Particularly, her father had to scour Muggle communication options to try and devise an effective way for Order members to communicate without possibility of infiltration.

As Dumbledore wanted some sort of way for people in the air to communicate, it was implicit that father and daughter would be working together at some stage. While Estella was grateful for this opportunity, she could not help but feel her father's frustration. As a former Auror and frontline dueller, Sirius just was not suited for 'soft' desk jobs and he took it as a personal affront to his magical prowess to be effectively kept out of the line of fire. Neither Black could understand how the issue of Sirius' notoriety could not be solved with the selective application of charms or potions, but, as Estella had come to realise, there were just some things Order members did not question the headmaster on. His reasons, apparently, always became clear in the end.

"Now, for arising business?" Dumbledore, as the appointed chair for the meeting, moved the last item on the agenda. Several wizards submitted issues that they wanted discussed in more detail at the following meeting, and Estella began to smile. "Estella? You have something you wish to add?"

"Yes," Estella said, sitting up straight in her chair and casting the unflappable old man a smug look. "May I suggest you look into warding the pantry door?"

Sirius, who had a glass raised to his lips, poised to take a long draught, flung the glass down in shock and spluttered. Beside him, Remus' eyes narrowed in suspicion, whilst Severus shared her smug look. Locking eyes with the headmaster once more, Estella saw the man nod slightly.

"Thank you for bringing that security flaw to our attention," he said, his eyes travelling over the table full of grown wizards who were all looking a tad bit sheepish for overlooking such a thing. "If that will be all, I will officially declare the meeting adjourned."

Even though the meeting ended in plenty of time for Molly to get the evening's meal underway on the stove, Estella felt emotionally and physically exhausted by the end of it. With her father and godfather swept up in the chaos of departing witches and wizards, Estella was able to follow her uncle into the small potions lab off the kitchen. Closing the door softly behind them, she turned and placed her hand on the wood. Shutting her eyes in concentration, she willed the wards to prohibit anyone from entering the room or listening in before turning to face her uncle who was looking at her with bemusement.

Entering the room fully and keeping herself busy by distractedly assisting her uncle as he packed up his materials – for it was apparent that he would no longer be called upon to brew potions in headquarters during the term – Estella took her time to gather her words together.

"So, do you have any idea on what Draco is being asked to do?" she asked casually, holding up a vial of potion up to the light in order to identify it.

"Are you aware that it is not common practice for Order members to discuss their prerogatives with others?" Severus countered.

"No idea, huh?" smirked Estella, pulling herself up onto the countertop directly next to her uncle so that she could sit and face him, their eyes level for a change. She cast him a coy look. "Quid pro quo, Uncle Sev."

"I do not have time for games, Estella," said Severus tiredly. "I must get these trunks back to Hogwarts tonight."

"Translation: you don't still want to be here when Molly rings the dinner bell," said Estella, smiling victoriously. "Come on, Uncle Sev, it'll be fun. You tell me something, I'll tell you something…"

"Very well," said Severus, inwardly curious as to why the child would seek him out directly after the meeting and not gravitate towards her father and the infernal Potter boy. Perhaps he had not lost her entirely, yet. "What possessed you to join the Order?"

"What possessed you to join the Death Eaters?" Estella bit back as though to say 'next question'.

"Why did you come down here to talk about Draco Malfoy?" asked Severus.

"What 'favour' did Tom grant Lucy?" threw back Estella. As was often the case with these games with her uncle, neither player were willing to divulge information first in the fear that once the opponent had heard what they wanted to hear, they would no longer reciprocate.

"Damn it, Estella," in a rare loss of control, Severus dropped a vial and swore. "What is this? Quid pro quo, or Questions?"

"What do you want it to be?" Estella fought to keep a straight face. Taking a deep breath to collect herself, she sighed. "Seriously, Uncle Sev… I know you know more about this favour of Voldemort's. I can tell when you're holding out on something."

"And I know when you're bluffing," said Severus coolly.

"Fine," said Estella. Such was the game with her uncle: no lies, but no straight answers either. Whether or not Severus did know something about the deal Lucius had struck with Voldemort, Estella wasn't sure. All she knew was that if she was about to give the man anything on Draco, she wanted to know what he did know of the situation. "Did I tell you I had a rather interesting encounter in Diagon Alley today? Those Malfoy men don't seem to like shopping with their women. You know they couldn't seem to get away from Narcissa fast enough? If I didn't know any better I'd suspect they were up to something behind her back…"

"What did you see?" asked Severus.

"Oh no, Uncle Sev," Estella wagged her finger at the man. "I told you something, now it's your turn. Quid pro quo, remember?"

"Very well," said Severus, his face stony. "Lucius Malfoy asked that your life be spared."

"What?" Estella fell off the counter in shock, falling forward and stumbling on her feet before being steadied by her uncle. "Why on earth would he want to do that?"

"Quid pro quo, Estella," Severus looked smug.

"Fine. I followed Lucius and Draco into Knockturn Alley," said Estella.

"What?" Severus rounded on her faster than Estella thought were humanly possible. "Where were your father and that werewolf of yours?"

"Don't you start," Estella glared at him. "I've already gone through this with Dad and Remus. Besides, if not for what I did, I wouldn't know what I know now, would I? Your turn, Uncle Sev."

Severus scowled, pausing to find his words. "Lucius is under the grand impression that the Black line still owes him a blood debt."

"Tell me something I don't know already," Estella shook her head. It was a little known fact amongst the two families that Lucius Malfoy felt cheated by his marriage to Narcissa. The long-standing arrangement between the two families had promised the son of a Malfoy to the daughter of a Black. After Andromeda – who was too old for Lucius by any stretch – had disgraced herself by marrying a Muggle, and after Bellatrix had eloped with Lestrange, only Narcissa was left. That Narcissa was not even a Black in blood, but rather had been adopted by her stepfather to legitimise the terms of the family's contract with the Malfoys was something Lucius did not discover until it were too late. With Narcissa being a 'Black daughter' on paper – complete with a sizeable dowry – the Blacks were technically honouring their contract and to decline, would disgrace the Malfoy name. Ever since Draco and Estella's births, it took no stretch of imagination to realise that Lucius Malfoy was keen to see the two families joined in more than just name. If he had to kill whomever got in his way and keep Estella dosed on debilitating potions or beaten into submission with the Imperius, Lucius had no limits.

"All right," Severus took a deep breath and, turning to lean against the counter; he crossed his arms across his chest and looked upon his niece. "Your father is being grounded for his protection. Malfoy has issued a contract on his life."

"He wants my father dead so that you would become my guardian again," Estella blanched. "And you can't exactly tell Malfoy where to stick his plans for his bloodlines, right?"

Severus shook his head slightly. "Your father remains unaware of these details, Estella. Unless you want your father going after Malfoy and getting himself killed in the process, I suggest you be selective in what you communicate to him."

"If I cooperate, would the contract be lifted?" asked Estella quietly, leaning heavily against a counter on the wall opposite her uncle and hugging herself slightly. Given the galley-style nature of the room, they were standing nearly toe to toe. Her uncle was right in that if her father knew his life was in danger, he'd want to eliminate the threat before it could neutralise him. It would be just like the night he'd gone after Peter to avenge James and Lily. Therefore, as much as she despised lying, in an instance of life or death, she was willing to make a exception. Continuing, her shoulders began to slump as though burdened with a heavy weight. "If I were to appear to be interested… I could consent to my own betrothal when I am of age, and it would buy us some time, right?"

"Possibly," said Severus in a reluctant tone. Had Sirius never gotten out of Azkaban, it had been his plan to assure Lucius enough to permit Estella to make her own decision when she was of age. His sister, Estella's mother, had been promised to another by their parents; and everyone knew how that had turned sour. Severus had Lucius all but convinced that history would repeat itself if they didn't tread carefully; but ever since Black was cleared, the man had become increasingly erratic and irrational. He sighed. "I highly suspect Lucius will want more assurances than that now. He already feels as though he's been swindled and burned once by your family."

"What can I do, then?" asked Estella, her voice beginning to waver.

Both without an answer for his niece and fuelled by a desire to change the direction of the conversation, Severus shook his head.

"Your turn, Estella," he said quietly.

Taking a deep breath, Estella tried to clear the recent revelations out of her mind so that she could refocus. Without leaving anything else out, Estella told her uncle all about the Cabinet in Borgin and Burke's and how she suspected Draco was going to try and reactivate the matching one in Hogwarts. For good measure, she also told him about the necklace Draco had mentioned in passing and confided in him her hopes that Draco might one day be able to think for himself and make a better choice.

"That boy cannot be redeemed," said Severus softly.

"I know," said Estella. "But if he could at least think for himself and not simply do everything because his father told him to, then at least he would be the only one at fault."

"Whether Draco makes his own decisions or if Lucius makes them for him is of little consequence," said Severus. "You need to accept that not every teenager is as independent and resilient as you. Only Draco can be held accountable for his actions."

"Why, Uncle Sev," said Estella. "Was that a compliment?"

Severus merely huffed slightly and pushed off from the counter he was leaning against to finish packing his supplies. Turning his back to her, it took all of Estella's hearing to catch what he said next.

"Thank you for exercising your discretion, Estella," he said; the understanding that Estella would not tell anyone that the information had come from her remaining unspoken between them. The pragmatic Potions Master was very grateful for the child's unwitting assistance in helping him save face; which is perhaps why he was so up front with her in regards to what he knew about Lucius' plans for her. Just when Estella thought he'd finished speaking, he added softly. "You would have made your mother very proud today." He turned around and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Don't let anyone take that away from you."

Reaching up to squeeze her uncle's forearm as he squeezed her shoulder gently, Estella smiled. She knew from her uncle's veiled statement that he was also proud of her and that she shouldn't let anyone else's thoughts on the subject make her doubt her faith in herself. Realising that her hand was wrapped around his Dark Mark, Estella looked up at her uncle.

"Be careful out there, will you?" she said quietly. "Unless I want to turn into a completely reckless bonehead Gryffindork, I'm gonna need you to keep me in line."

Smirking appreciatively at his niece's candour, Severus nodded. Bracing her other shoulder with his other hand, Severus leaned in and kissed her head.

"Remember what I said before, Estella," he said. "No heroics."

"You know I can't promise that," Estella pointed out almost regretfully, her mind wondering what her uncle would have thought of her behaviour during the full moon. "But I will use my best judgement, and that has to count for something, right?"

"It hasn't gotten you killed, yet," Severus acknowledged, pushing her away gently. "Now off with you, before your father sends a search party."

Estella found her father and the others upstairs. The official story for Estella and Harry's presence downstairs while a meeting was taking place was to receive a very stern lecture on the perils of holidaying in an uncanvassed location. Harry and Sirius were now making a good job of looking remorseful as the other teenagers celebrated the occasion of the Prefect selection. Apparently, both Hermione and Ron had been named as Prefects and they had put off their celebrations until Harry could be there to share it with them. Looking across at the bespectacled boy, Estella suspected that had it not been for his clandestine ordination into the Order, Harry would probably have been feeling a little put out at the decision not to make him a Prefect. It wasn't that Harry took much stock in his fame, but you could hardly blame him for feeling a little jilted by the snub when he had more than proven himself worthy of the position, what, with saving the school from the likes of Trolls, Basilisks and Dementors, as well as, winning the Tri-Wizard Cup for the school.

After politely making the rounds and passing on her congratulations to the bewildered Ron and ecstatic Hermione, Estella quietly excused herself. Announcing to all that who'd listen that she'd had a tiring day and was packing herself off to bed. _'Yes, Ron' _she thought at the redhead's astounded look, _'without my dinner!'_

Knowing that her father would likely follow her up, she didn't think anything of his reluctance to approach her whilst in a roomful of teenagers. Then, after brushing the twins aside in the hallway – they had wanted to privately express their dismay about not being able to order Kreacher to plant their extendable ears for the meetings without her consent and were sympathetic to the ear bashing she'd must have gotten – she made her way up to her room wearily. Shrugging off her outer robe and kicking off her shoes, Estella padded over to her trunk – of which someone had evidently taken the liberty of enlarging for her – and pulled out her walkman. Plugging in her headphones and curling up on her bed to listen, Estella was drifting off to sleep before she was even aware of it.

Finding his daughter asleep with music softy blaring from her ears, Sirius sighed and made his way over to her bed. Sitting down on the edge of the bed next to his unresponsive daughter, he ran a hand over his face wearily before banishing the walkman back to her trunk and placing a hand on her shoulder to wake her. He'd barely finished saying the spell that removed the headphones from her ears before Estella was awake and alert, her wand appearing from under her pillow and flying up to poke at him in alarm.

"Whoa, easy there kiddo!" Sirius dropped his wand as a peace offering and slowly nudged his daughter's wand away from his chest. Her wand sufficiently lowered, he used that same hand to reach out and brush the hair out of his daughter's face whilst his other leant over her torso and bore his weight on the mattress. "Do you want any dinner? I saved you some."

Estella shrugged. "I'm just so tired," she yawned for emphasis. "Tomorrow's a big day, so if it's all the same to you I'd rather just sleep."

"Do you think you can wake up a bit and spare a few moments for your stupid old man?" asked Sirius. "In the very least I am sure Skunk here is a bit hungry."

"What's there to sort out?" Estella frowned, looking down at the warm-blooded Kneazle who had apparently taken the place of her favoured stuff-toy in bed as it curled up against her arm. It wasn't that they didn't have things to discuss, she was just too tired and muddled by all the information she'd taken in that day to know where to begin. Knowing that her father wasn't about to let it drop though, and knowing that she would not have a very happy Kneazle on her hands if she didn't feed it, she pulled herself up into a sitting position and made herself comfortable. In the process of sliding up from where she had been curled up in a ball, the sleeve of her loose-fitting T-shirt had ridden up to expose the beginnings of bruises on her arms.

"What happened to you?" asked Sirius dumbly, gently helping her up to inspect her arms. "Who did this? Was it Malfoy?"

"I find myself wishing it was," said Estella sadly, the look in her eyes telling Sirius everything he needed to know; causing him to reel back in shock.

Clasping a hand over his mouth in shock, Sirius slid off the edge of the bed and crumbled to the floor, his eyes wide. Pulling his knees to his chest and burying his face in his hands, he couldn't look his daughter in the eye. When Estella noticed his shoulders shaking, she climbed out of bed and sat next to her father silently. When he wouldn't respond to her calls or otherwise move from his position, she began to worry. The man was so distraught that he didn't even realise when Estella had left Skunk with him and vacated the room in search of her godfather.

"Sirius?" Remus had come as soon as Estella had called, and was now kneeling in front of his catatonic friend, gently shaking his shoulders. "C'mon buddy, you're scaring Estella."

"Estella?" said Sirius incoherently, raising his head slightly to reveal unfocused eyes. "I hurt her, Moony! I didn't mean to, I swear…"

"Remus, what's wrong with him?" asked Estella frantically.

"He's zoning out like he did last summer," said Remus quietly. He'd been so certain that Sirius had been well on his way to putting the demons of Azkaban behind him. "Remember when Kreacher tried to re-age you and Sirius lost the plot and almost killed him?"

"That actually happened?" Estella's eyes flew open. A lot of her memories whilst in her de-aged state presented themselves as dreamlike and surreal due to the rapid regrowth of her brain back into its pre-existing state. As such, she had a hard time discerning between the facts. "What do we do?"

"Try and talk him around, I guess," said Remus lightly, not wanting to draw attention to the fact that if anyone else caught wind of Sirius' susceptibility to withdraw into himself so completely, he'd be at very real risk of losing custody of both Harry and Estella.

Unfortunately for Estella, the childlike inhibitions and innocence her younger-self had possessed when previously faced with this problem were now overrun with irrational hormone-driven feelings of indignation and anger.

"I don't believe this," she furrowed her brow. Though the rational side of her knew that her father was extremely lucky to come out of Azkaban with very minimal behavioural problems, the fact that no 13-year-old girl wanted to admit her father was a mere mortal filled her with a sense of betrayal, and she masked her feelings of concern and fear with her anger. "What's he carrying on about? You didn't see me vegetate after having a one-on-one tutorial with Voldemort about the Unforgivable Curses, and I'm just a kid!"

"Estella," said Remus warningly. "Your father has experienced unspeakable horrors. Today probably didn't mean much to you, but it obviously triggered something in him."

What Estella didn't know at that moment was that Sirius' one fear – his Boggart, if you will – was losing his daughter. Azkaban had done a job of taking his happy memories and convincing him that he had lost her, and since coming out, it was often a struggle to keep a balanced perspective. Twelve years in Azkaban, and he was of the irrevocable mind that such good things just weren't supposed to happen to him. Sure, his daughter accepted him into her life and they just had a unforgettable holiday together, but no matter how good things were right in front of him, the man secretly lay awake every night just waiting for the moment when his daughter would reject him. Seeing those bruises on her arm – knowing he had put them there – had him convinced that he'd just signed away his right to be a father. Rather than hear the words come from his daughter's mouth – rather than witness his worst fears become a reality – Sirius shut everything out.

"I can't…" mumbled Sirius. "I can't…"

"Can't what, Padfoot?" said Remus, maintaining a firm, unyielding grip on the broken man's shoulders.

"I can't lose her, Moony!" Sirius choked out.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake!" said Estella exasperatedly, quickly losing patience of her father's self-doubts and theatrics. Before she could say anything further, the door knob began to turn. It was Harry. Without even giving much thought to what she was doing, Estella stood abruptly and spun around, outstretching her arms with palms facing the door in a 'stop' motion. For the first time, Estella felt completely in tune with the wards, and she could feel the magic ripple through her as she sent it out towards the opening door, slamming it shut in Harry's face and locking it.

Paling, Estella looked to her godfather – who had also stood – in shock. "What does this mean?" she said, becoming more and more hysterical. "I've never been able to get the wards to do anything remotely like that! I've always had to be touching the door when I want it to do something! What does this mean?"

"It means your father is not aware enough of his surroundings to perform his duties as master of the household," said Remus quietly. "The wards have granted you power in his stead."

"Well that's just great," Estella drawled sarcastically, her eyes blazing in anger. How dare her father put her through this? How dare he be so weak? Jerking her head towards the door, Estella dismissed her godfather. "You'd better go put a halt on Harry. He's probably flipping out and the last thing we need is Molly Weasley nosing around."

"Try not to say anything that will pull him in deeper," said Remus. "I know you feel like he's let you down right now, but he needs assurance."

"That's to put it mildly," scoffed Estella.

Moving to stand in front of his goddaughter, Remus' face began to show the lines of age. "He is not like this by choice, cub," he said sadly, not just referring to this instance, but every occasion where he'd questioned his ability as a parent or worried about competing for her affections. "How I wish you'd met him before…"

"Okay, Moony, I get it," sighed Estella. Azkaban had screwed with her father's head – now there was a mood killer. Suddenly, Estella felt even more tired than she had before. "Go see to Harry. I'll try and fiddle with the wards so that the door will let only you back in or something."

"I'll be back as soon as I can," said Remus comfortingly, giving her a quick hug before leaving them alone in the room once more.

"Right," said Estella once her godfather had closed the door behind him. Moving to kneel in front of her father, she crossed her arms across her chest. "Dad? Dad, can you hear me?"

Sirius looked up and squinted at her.

"Selina? Where have you been?" he asked in a far away tone. "Where's our baby?"

Estella swore colourfully and sighed. Having no idea on what to do, she crossed her fingers, took a deep breath, and hoped to Merlin that what she did next would come close to being right.

"Sirius Black, what have you done to yourself?" she snapped at him as she could only imagine her mother doing in her place.

"I hurt her," sobbed Sirius. "I hurt our daughter. I hurt Estella."

"No you didn't, she's fine," said Estella firmly.

"Did she tell you that? She's lying!" said Sirius forlornly. "Didn't you see her arms?"

"Estella doesn't lie. She's fine," said Estella, feeling as though she had entered the twilight zone on account of referring to herself in third person and imitating her dead mother.

"Snivellus must have given her a salve for the bruises," said Sirius. "If you saw what I did to her, you wouldn't be so-"

"I saw full well what you did, Sirius Black," said Estella, inhaling sharply when she saw her father recoil and begin to curl up even tighter. "I also saw what she did to bring it on herself."

"There's no excuse!" said Sirius. "Nothing a child does gives a parent the right to harm them!"

"Then why did you?" said Estella, scrambling for a way out of this cycle. Her father was intent on beating himself up.

"I didn't mean to," said Sirius quickly. "I was so scared… so scared… I turned around, she wasn't there! She wasn't there! I thought I'd lost her forever; but there she was, fine as the day she was born, and she had gone off deliberately! I didn't mean to grab her so hard. I didn't mean to yell. I was just so angry… how could she not know…"

"Not know what?" said Estella, her eyes burning with guilty tears. Whilst she had been off sight seeing in Knockturn Alley, she had put her father through hell.

"I can't…" said Sirius brokenly. "I can't live without her too." He looked up again and smiled slightly. "Where have you been all this time? How am I supposed to know what I'm doing without you here? I miss you so much, Selina…"

Estella sighed and moved away slightly. Her father was clearly so deluded that it just would not do if her were to try and do something husbandly like kiss her. Fighting the look of disdain on her face, she tried to remain in character. Reaching out to lay a hand on the back of his head as he leant forward and rested his forehead on his knees, Estella cleared her mind and pulled her next words from deep within her soul. If a Muggle were to happen across the pair, they'd likely suspect the girl of actually channelling the spirit of her late mother, much like Whoopi Goldberg had been possessed by Patrick Swayze in the epic love story, Ghost.

"I've been watching over our baby," she said in a faraway tone. If she were to look in a mirror at that moment, she'd have been alarmed to note that her eyes were almost black. "Don't worry so much, you're doing more than fine."

"But I-" Sirius looked up to stare at the figure before him with an altogether much more lucid look in his eye.

"No," Estella cut him off with a hand to his mouth. "Stop this, stop this now! You were only doing what any normal, panicked parent would do."

"No," Sirius shook his head stubbornly. "You wouldn't have lost it like that! You would have known what to do better!"

"No I wouldn't have," she replied. "I would have hexed her legs off, withdrawn her from school and chained her to the piano and forced her to learn the Muggle way… and then when I'd calmed down I'd go nuts looking for the counter spells."

This, though Estella had no idea where that had come from, seemed to get through to Sirius for his body began to unclench itself and visibly relax. She was even sure she'd heard him snort in agreement, though it was very faint and she couldn't be sure. Shaking the fog out of her own head, Estella too took the opportunity to relax a little and she watched curiously as her father's breathing returned to normal.

Unfurling her legs out from under her, Estella rose slightly and stretched to get the circulation pumping back into her limbs. Then, embodied by a recurrent inspiration, Estella crawled over to her trunk and began to rifle through it in search of her stuffed dog. Finding it and smirking at the foolish sentimentality of what she was about to do, she turned around to approach her father with it. When she saw her father sitting against her bed, cross legged and looking at her quite coherently whilst a certain dark, warm-blooded magical creature worked its charms as it nestled in the crook of an arm, Estella dropped her inanimate stuffed toy in shock.

"Oh, so you're back now?" she said, throwing her stuffed dog back into her trunk and moving back towards her father to sit next to him on the floor.

"What do you mean?" Sirius leaned back slightly so he could look at her whole face as she sat next to him. "What's up with your eyes? Has Tonks been trying to teach you how to become a Metamorphagus?"

"Huh?" Estella rubbed her eyes blearily and frowned in confusion. How could her father be so, so, normal after that complete breakdown? "You don't remember what just happened?"

"Uh, I came in, woke you up, chewed your ear off about wandering off by yourself, you reminded me of how me and James'd snuck off to Hogsmeade when the wizarding world was just as much at war, and I decided to let you off with a warning," said Sirius slowly, not quite sure why his daughter looked as though she were hearing this for the first time. "It was really strange though because I could almost swear I had your mother's voice in my head telling me how much of a drama queen I was earlier… you know you really look like her when you make your eyes go like that. Don't suppose you can do it again?"

"Uh, no," Estella was becoming more and more confused, though something in the very back of her mind was telling her to relax and roll with it. "I don't think my eyes did anything… must've just been the lights, y'know."

"Oh," said Sirius, deflated. "So Tonks hasn't been trying to teach you any of her tricks?"

"I couldn't master them even if I tried," Estella shook her head. Transfiguration was not exactly her forte, even after all the additional help her father had been able to give her over the past year. Her stomach starting to grumble slightly, she pulled herself up to sit on the edge of her bed. "Anyway, didn't you say you saved me some dinner?"

Sirius nodded distractedly and with a snap of his fingers, summoned Kreacher, who was carrying a tray. Sitting up against the bed head, Estella balanced the tray on her knees and was careful not to get any crumbs in her sheets as she made short work of some of Molly's finest.

"You know," she said with her mouthful as she swatted her father's fingers away from her Yorkshire pudding. "It surprises me how you and Mrs Weasley are always are at such loggerheads all the time. I'm sure if you sat down and thought things through, you'd find that you actually have a lot in common."

Her father shot her an indignant look and scowled.

"No, really," Estella said earnestly, though her affirmation did little to alleviate the look of incredulity on her offended father's features. "You both love cooking, okay so Molly does things the magical way, but you're both good at that-" Sirius smiled slightly at the implied compliment and she went on "-and despite your differences, the fact remains that you're both horribly protective of your kids."

"Ah, but the difference there is that I don't go around telling her how to raise her brood," Sirius pointed out banally. Gesturing for her to use her fork as she went to pick up a cooked baby carrot with her fingers, he changed the subject. "That was a pretty spectacular show you put on today with Fawkes."

"Not my doing," Estella held her hands up in defence. "It was all Fawke's idea."

"Any idea what it meant?" said Sirius.

"How would I know if Dumbledore said he didn't?" shrugged Estella, inwardly marking it down as a mystery to get to the bottom of as soon as possible.

"You think Dumbledore knows something but wouldn't say?" asked Sirius, brows raised.

"I think maybe he'll want to try and suss a few things out from me before letting his position be known," said Estella, smirking slightly. "His surprise was genuine though."

"Speaking of surprises," said Sirius levelly. "Remind me not to leave you alone in a house with Dumbledore again, will you? I don't know what I think about coming home to find both you and Harry downstairs applying to the Order for membership. You put me on the spot today, kiddo."

Estella cast her eyes downward and sighed. "Dumbledore started it," she said, though it offered little excuse. Lifting her gaze, she set her face in a determined line. "If you don't want me to-"

Sirius held up his hand to silence her. "Though I would have liked to have had some warning first, I understand it was a spur of the moment thing, right?" Estella nodded in confirmation. "Very well, then. I can't knock you for acting on your instincts – some of the best decisions are made on the fly, you know, when you don't give yourself time to mull over them. Don't let that uncle of yours fill your head with rot about rashness being foolish. It isn't always the case."

"Well so long as you aren't agreeing to this because you don't trust yourself to make an independent decision,"--there, she'd said it.

"Estella, it isn't so much about me not trusting myself," said Sirius awkwardly, his hand running over the nape of his neck. "Than it's about trusting you to make the right choices for yourself. It's all part of growing up, you know."

"I thought you didn't want me to grow up?"

"That's not the point," said Sirius, smiling sadly as he reached over and patted her arm. "Trying to deny what's right in front of me and hold you back won't help either of us."

"Well, you know I am still only 13," said Estella in a small voice. "I don't want to make all the decisions myself, just yet. You can still boss me around…"

"What, and deal with that temper of yours?" said Sirius, smiling wanly. "I'd rather spend what little time we get together harmoniously, thank you very much."

Looking at her Dad with a newfound sense of understanding, Estella nodded and returned to her pudding. Seeing the hungry look in his eyes, she halted her spoon in mid air.

"You want some?" she asked finally, holding the spoon out to him.

Grinning innocently, Sirius leant forward and accepted the spoon directly into his mouth. Making an over-dramatised sound of appreciation as the rich, creamery butterscotch melted in his mouth, he delighted in his daughter's contentedness. Given how distraught she had been about returning to Hogwarts after the Christmas break, it was a relief to see her so at ease about their pending separation – though, if he were truly honest with himself, part of him missed being able to see just how much his child didn't want to leave him.

"You scared me today, kiddo," said Sirius out of the blue as Estella finished off her dinner and had him banish her plates away. Sighing dejectedly, his daughter slumped and nodded her head shamefully. Leaning forward and tilting her head up with his hand, he looked her directly in the eyes. "I don't say that to make you feel bad, Estella," he continued, "I want you to be fully aware of what your actions do to others next time, that's all."

"There won't be a next time," said Estella shaking her head.

Chuckling mirthlessly, Sirius leant back so his daughter could settle down in her blankets. Leaning down to kiss her forehead and brush the hair out of her face, he whispered into her hair. "There's always a next time. You wouldn't be my daughter if there wasn't. Just be careful."

Estella shifted slightly to look her father in the eye, a thoughtful expression on her face. "Always."

END CHAPTER: UNUSUAL REQUESTS

NEXT CHAPTER: TRAIN RIDES

DUE: either late on the 23rd or sometime on the 24th.

A/N: Apologies for this chapter being late, there's been all manner of problems this end. I won't bore you with the details except to say that the delay has most certainly not been by choice! As a general rule, updates will be predominantly on weekends now.


	11. Train Rides

**Disclaimer: It's still no more mine than it was 12 months ago…**

**Updated: Friday 23rd December 2005 **

**Note: **Anything specifically recognisable was shamelessly borrowed from both OotP and HBP. In case of further confusion, I wish to take the opportunity to state for the record that I am _combining_ elements of the storylines from both OotP and HBP, creating a parallel AU. I have not _skipped_ a year… Harry is in fifth, Estella in fourth. Hope that clears things up. Feedback on this decision will be much appreciated. Review replies for Chapter Ten will be sent on the 26th. Apologies for not having them out with this chapter. Hope you all have a safe and happy holiday season.

**Chapter 11: Train Rides **

Boarding the train at Platform 9¾ the next day was a mixed blessing for Estella. As much as she was looking forward to another year of learning and seeing her friends again; that she had parted from the men in her life in such a way plucked at her heartstrings. Remus, for instance, was not even there when she'd woken up. Apparently, he'd ducked his head in before he left on his 'spur-of-the-moment-undercover-mission' for the Order, but hadn't wanted to wake her. Whatever had happened between her and her father the night before had clearly tired her out, for she doubted that anything could have woken her from her slumber.

Waking up as though she'd just slept a week was revitalising and refreshing in its nature, but Estella was still a little put out by the fact that her she'd missed her godfather's departure. Her father had explained the urgency and unexpectedness of Remus' call of duty, and Estella knew that her godfather would not have left without saying goodbye if he had had any choice in the matter. That understanding didn't mean that she had to like it, though. In fact, Estella had a mind to believe it was Dumbledore's little way of getting back at her for snookering him at the Order meeting. She had no illusions that the formidable headmaster was not accustomed to having someone flat out refuse to serve him without repercussion.

To compound matters even further, Estella did not want her father seeing them off at King's Cross. It wasn't that she didn't want him there, exactly, she just didn't want to _risk_ it. What made explaining this to the man difficult, was the tiny matter of Sirius being completely oblivious to the contract that was presently over his head. Strictly speaking, Estella was not even supposed to know.

"Why, don't you want me there?" Sirius didn't understand where this was coming from.

"No, I do, I want you there…" Estella's voice had trailed off hopelessly. "It's just that…"

"Then I don't understand what the problem is!" said Sirius, reaching for his cloak. The others had already taken their trunks out to the Ministry cars Arthur had acquired for the day and were waiting. "Estella, this is the first time I've ever been able to come see you off at the station as a free man, I thought you'd be ecstatic."

"I… I am… it's just… it's just not safe," said Estella half-heartedly, her mind already having anticipated her father's next response.

"Well of course it's hardly safe for anyone, is it?" said Sirius, shaking his head. "If it makes you feel any better, I'll promise to come straight home by Portkey the second you get on the train…"

"It's not a joke!" Estella had snapped at her father's tone. "You can't come!"

"I know it's not a joke, Estella," said Sirius, his tone darkening in frustration. "If you don't want me there, just say so. Don't give me some crap about it not being safe. It's safer for a fully-trained wizard than it is an under-aged one."

"Not for _you_, it's not!" she had stressed.

Sirius had looked down at his daughter with strange comprehension. Resting his hands on her shoulders, he sought eye contact. "Estella," he said quietly. "Did Malfoy threaten you? Are you worried about going back to school? Is this what this is about?"

"Of course not!" scoffed Estella, forgoing the opportunity to ditch school and spend more time with her father. "I _told _you, Draco and I were just _talking_."

"Then I don't understand it, kiddo!" Sirius took a step back and waved his hands in defeat. "You explain it to me! I'm not giving up the opportunity to see you off without good reason!"

"Oh, well, okay," said Estella stroppily. "How about the orders for Death Eaters to kill you on sight? Is _that_ a good enough reason? Huh?"

"As I am sure it stands for just about everyone in this house…" said Sirius, before doing a double take. "Wait, you're serious, aren't you?"

"No, _you're_ Sirius. That's my point!" said Estella cryptically. How could she have just given the game away like that? She'd promised not to say anything!

"Estella, is there something you're not telling me?"

"Yes, there is something I'm not telling you," Estella sighed. Apparently her father had not taken her earlier affirmation for what it was. "Please, just trust me on this, okay? You _really_ don't want to come to King's Cross."

Suddenly, everything appeared to become clear to Sirius, whose face darkened in realisation.

"I will not cower and hide, Estella," said Sirius. "I will not give them the satisfaction."

"You don't even know who 'they' are," his daughter had pointed out. Taking a decisive stance, she'd sat down on her trunk. Skunk, her undersized Kneazle, jumped up from where it had been lounging on the trunk to curl up on Estella's shoulder. Nuzzling her head to one side, wordlessly thanking her familiar for its show of support, Estella kept her ground. "I see I have no choice."

"What are you doing?"

"I am not stepping foot outside this house until you _promise me_ that you will not follow!" said Estella as she crossed her arms and looked at her father levelly. "I mean it, Dad. Stay home."

Gaping at his daughter's defiance in shock, Sirius wagged his finger at his daughter. "Now listen here! You will pick up your trunk this instant and follow me out to the car where everyone is waiting!" he said sternly. "We're going to run late as it is!"

"No!" snapped Estella, crying out as her father magically moved her trunk from under her, sending it out to the car when she did not respond. Scrambling to her feet and dodging his hand as he made to drag her out of the house, she dug her heels in. "I'll only Portkey back upstairs! I mean it!"

Catching hold of his daughter's wrist, Sirius held it laxly in his hand for a moment and frowned. Slightly behind him, refusing to move, his daughter had her pendant firmly clasped in her other hand. In what could only be described as a fierce battle of wills, Sirius scowled. "I'm coming!"

"You're not!"

"Fine, I'll just Apparate and meet you there, then!" Sirius said, releasing her hand and gesturing for her to walk out the door.

"And I'll just keep using my Portkey!" threatened Estella, equally stubborn. Mortified at the idea of her father Apparating to the platform _by himself_, Estella's eyes had begun to tear up in frustration. Pleading now, she tugged at his hand desperately, trying to get his attention away from the front door. Collapsing on a lower step of the staircase, she buried her head in her hands and had started to sob in defeat. This was not how she had wanted to leave for school. Absently petting Skunk as the creature had slunk down from her shoulder to rest on her lap, she struggled to get the next words out. "Please… please… I don't know what else to do! Stay, just… _stay_… I can't worry about you too. Not with Moony out… out… _there_…"

Sighing in equal defeat, Sirius sat down heavily next to her and pulled her close. Murmuring words of comfort in her hair as he rubbed her back gently, he reconsidered his options. He didn't fully comprehend the risk to his life, and he couldn't really relate to the fear his daughter felt, but there was nothing he wouldn't do to take away her tears. "Oh sweetheart," he murmured. "I'm sorry. I'll… I'll stay. Maybe Tonks will put the memory in a Pensieve for me, eh?"

"I'm sorry, Dad," said Estella in a shaky voice. Sorry for the fact she had been born a girl and had ever drawn Lucius Malfoy's attention. Sorry for the fact that she took desperate advantage of her father's weakness by deliberately crying in front of him. "Don't ever think that it's because I don't want you there." she sniffed. "Quite the opposite, really. I want you here… I want you here for a _very_ long time."

Their conversation had been interrupted at that point by footsteps clamouring up the front steps as Harry was sent back to see what was the hold up. Though he did not quite understand why, Harry had accepted that Sirius was staying behind at Estella's reluctant insistence. A hurried goodbye and promises for regular Owls later, and the two teenagers had left the house.

Now caught in the bustle of students as they scrambled to secure their favourite carriages, Estella followed Harry towards the back of the train. Reflecting on the morning she'd just had, she was pointedly relieved that her involvement in the Order would mean that she'd not have to wait until Christmas to see her father again. When Remus had told her just before first year that he'd not be able to visit her on weekends during term anymore, 'because it wouldn't be fair to the other boarders', Estella had thought _that_ was unbearable. Now, being sent away from both her godfather _and_ the father she was only just getting to know, she began to understand just how people got homesick. It was then that she suddenly realised that she no longer considered the quarters she'd shared with her uncle for the first ten years of her life as her home. The thought so shocked her, that she faltered in her step, almost completely missing the fact that Harry had disappeared into a carriage.

Allowing herself to be bustled into the carriage behind Harry as the throng of Weasleys behind her prevented much else, Estella took a seat by the window and wondered what her friends were up to. Because the argument she'd had with her father had made them late, the group had gotten onto the train with moments to spare and she'd yet to spy any of her fellow Ravenclaws. Somehow, all the Weasley boys, plus Harry, Hermione and Estella had managed to squeeze into the empty carriage, complete with their associated trunks, Owls and Familiars. Her keen eyes spotting Harry's sleeve move slightly, Estella levelled a glare at the Parseltongue to remind him to keep his snake's presence a secret.

Sirius had yet to clear the pet with Dumbledore and watching the saviour of the wizarding world converse with a reptile was still something a lot of people would not be able to reconcile with. As such, Harry was under strict instructions to keep the small garden variety python out of sight. Luckily, said snake preferred warm, stuffy places, and so was quite amenable to Harry's instructions to stay under his clothes. Evidently, Harry had forgotten to tell his pet not to move around, for Estella could notice the boy twitching as the scaly creature tickled the sensitive spots on his arm. Inwardly, she made a note to congratulate Harry on his resolve – she didn't think she'd be able to keep from laughing if she was being tickled.

No sooner had the train finished lurching and settling into a rhythm on the tracks below, were Hermione and Ron called away to the Prefect's Carriage. Ginny had quietly excused herself on the platform once she'd spied Dean Thomas board the train; so that left just the twins, along with Harry.

"All right, you two, spill," said George firmly after exchanging a telling look with his twin. "What are you up to?"

"Huh?" Harry frowned, casting Estella a side-long look in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"Come on, Harry!" Fred shook his head. "We're masters of our game. Don't you think we can recognise when one of our own are keeping something from us? We patented that look you've both been wearing!"

"What look?" said Estella, not buying into the twins' fishing expedition for a second.

"Never mind the look," George said uncertainly. "You can't tell us that you spent the _entire_ duration of the Order meeting getting your ears chewed off! They must have discussed other things!"

"So spill!" Fred implored, reiterating his brother's earlier command.

"With all due respect, it's none of your business," said Estella defensively, her mood grounded by the persistent purring of the Kneazle in her lap. "Or do you get sick pleasure hearing of other people's torment?" she paused, taking in the twins' expressions. "Not even my uncle would stoop so low!"

"Don't you have fliers to distribute or something?" said Harry flippantly, trying to distract the pair of redheads from pursuing their current line of questioning. "Tell us more about how you're able to mix the shop with school…"

"You're trying to change the subject," Fred pointed out, wagging a finger.

"Don't think we haven't noticed," George continued, tutting slightly.

"I don't think he was intending to be subtle," said Estella. "There's simply nothing further to discuss on that subject."

The foursome exchanged casual small talk for the next half an hour, each teenager taking the time to mentally regroup and plot their next course of action. Estella could see that they had piqued the curiosity of the twins and knew that short of getting Molly involved, the twins were not about to give up their crusade. She was halfway through plotting the mental draft of her report to the woman, which she would have to give at the next meeting if she wanted to protect the integrity of her position and get the twins off their backs, when Lee Jordan barrelled into the carriage.

The conversation flowed a bit more easily after that, with the twins' attention sufficiently drawn towards their professional endeavours, taking both Lee and Harry along for the ride. Subsequently left out, Estella contented herself with a cursory glance of her Charms text; one hand absently stroking Skunk. Though she'd only had the strange, scrawny looking Kneazle for a few days, Estella couldn't imagine being without it. 'Guess that's why they call them _Familiars_,' she mused to herself, settling down to read her book properly. Before she could absorb herself in the page, the carriage door slid open to reveal a sweaty, round-faced boy in Harry's year.

"Hi, Harry," Neville Longbottom panted, struggling with the effort of pulling his trunk along and maintaining a one-handed grip on his toad, Trevor. "Hi, guys… mind if I join you in here? It was, er, getting a bit uncomfortable in the carriage with Dean and, er…" his voice trailed off as he noted the dawning looks comprehension on the twins' faces.

Though they both were undoubtedly agitated about whatever Ginny was off doing in a carriage alone with her boyfriend, neither brother said anything. Neville and Harry looked to them in surprise. To answer the unasked question, George shook his head.

"We don't have anything to worry about, do we Fred?" he said.

"Nope," George shook his head, grinning slightly. "Train is charmed against permitting anything beyond an innocent snog."

"It is?" at this, Estella couldn't help but raise a brow. She'd certainly not heard of such an obscure little fact.

"It's something you can, er, only discover from _experience_," Fred elaborated.

George exchanged a grave look with his twin before nodding at the audience in equal seriousness. "So we'll know how hard to hex Dean judging by what he looks like when he gets off the train."

After this, neither twin would expound upon the apparent precautions the train's staff had undertaken to ensure students conducted themselves appropriately in the unsupervised carriages. Estella wasn't sure she wanted to find out just how the twins uncovered such information, let alone what the consequences were for any couple who indulged their teenaged hormones.

The train rattled onwards, speeding them out into open country. It was an odd, unsettled sort of day; one moment the carriage was full of sunlight and the next they were passing beneath ominously grey clouds. The conversation quickly moved on to neutral ground.

"Guess what I got for my birthday?" said Neville.

"Another Rememberall?" said Harry, remembering the marble-like device and how it had inadvertently secured his spot on the Gryffindor Quidditch team in first year. Everyone present in the carriage was well familiar with the story and looked to Harry knowingly. Neville's grandmother had sent him the Rememberall in first year in an effort to improve the boy's abysmal memory which, incidentally, had shown little improvement over the years.

"No," said Neville. "I could do with one, though, I lost the old one ages ago… no, look at this…"

Estella watched on with increasing disinterest as Neville rummaged through his bag to pull out a strange looking plant. Tuning out as the excitable Gryffindor handed Harry his toad and began his explanation, Estella reeled back in shock as she was struck with a thick, stinking jet of green goo. Glaring at the source, Estella quickly surmised that Neville had tampered with his _Mimbulus mimbletonia_, causing it to spout the offensive Stinksap out of its boils.

Neville, whose face and torso were drenched in the rancid liquid, shook his head to get the worst out of his eyes. "S-sorry," he gasped. "I haven't tried that before… didn't realise it would be quite so… don't worry though, Stinksap's not poisonous," he added nervously, as Harry spat a mouthful on to the floor.

At that precise moment the door of their compartment slid open.

"Oh… hello, Harry," said a nervous voice. "Um… bad time?"

Harry wiped the lenses of his glasses with his free hand. A very pretty girl with long, shiny black hair was standing in the doorway smiling at him: Cho Chang, the Seeker on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. Catching the look in the girl's eye, Estella groaned and shook her head in dissent before leaning back to watch the interplay with interest.

"Oh… hi," said Harry blankly.

"Um…" said Cho. "Well… just thought I'd say hello… bye then."

Rather pink in the face, she closed the door and departed. Harry slumped back in his seat and groaned. Catching the boy's eye, Estella supposed that Harry was rather embarrassed being caught clutching a toad and dripping in Stinksap.

"You've got to be kidding me!" Estella gasped, recognising the look on Harry's face as being more than just simple humiliation. "You… her? No way!"

"What? Don't you think I'd have a shot?" said Harry defensively, though Estella could hear the doubt in his voice. Opposite them, the twins and Lee nodded approvingly and started ranting about how the two Seekers were 'made for each other' and they didn't know why they hadn't seen it earlier.

Filled with a sudden feeling of discontent, Estella cleaned her things, placed an indignant looking Skunk on her shoulder, and prepared to leave. Throwing an almost non-verbal cleaning spell in the boy's direction, Estella criticised Harry of his taste in girls and excused herself from the carriage briskly. It took all her resolve to not go back and hex the identical smirks off the Weasley twins' faces when she heard one of them say something about her being 'jealous' behind her back. If anything, Estella was simply being _protective_ of Harry. All the Ravenclaw girls – and most of the boys, too – knew their house Seeker was a complete emotional basket case. Boys always seemed to look past that when ensnared by the girl's perceived beauty, but they always walked away burned. Cho Chang was bad news. Simple as that.

Convincing herself to that end as she slammed the carriage door shut behind her, she pondered the reasons for her exit. The boys probably thought she'd left in a jealous huff or something, or because she was disgusted by Neville's blundering with his plant, but really, nothing could be further from the truth. Copping a lapful of Stinksap and being the only person in the carriage familiar with Cho's M.O. had simply made her realise how much she didn't really belong with this group of Gryffindors. Had she of been in a similar situation with John, Reg and Elsie, Reg's reflexes would have shielded them all from the Stinksap and John's bluntness would have sent Cho fishing in a different pond.

Though she had initially set out to find her friends, the allure of a surprisingly empty carriage drew Estella away from her goal. An isolationist by nature, the constant thrum of people in confined spaces was beginning to niggle at her. While she could more than handle it if the company was good, she wasn't about to turn down the opportunity for some quiet time alone. For the most part, she'd still not had the chance to work through the events of that morning; as she slid the door home and slumped on the chair it became apparent that the banter of other teenagers hadn't been the only thing keeping her from her reading.

Pulling out a different book, this one an album, Estella traced the gilded edges of the embossed pattern; the touch of the soft leather soothing her. Flicking it open to the first page, she reread the lines that she had read for the first time just a few hours earlier.

_Thank you for bringing light to my shadow,_

_for filling my heart with precious memories_

_for showing me the true nature of love_

_and giving me the strength for the times ahead._

_All the best for the school year – _

_stay safe, be strong, and never forget that I am closer than you think._

It wasn't signed, but Estella didn't have to read who it was from to know it was from her godfather. She would recognise the man's carefully printed handwriting anywhere. The gift he'd left by her bedside was a collection of photographs he had amassed over their summer together, and it was with a heavy heart that she flicked back through the colourful pages, reminiscing fondly.

"Closer than I think?" she cast a questioning look at her familiar, who had alighted from her shoulder and curled up in the seat by the window, opposite her, as soon as the carriage door had closed behind them. Noticing Estella's eyes upon them, the Kneazle blinked blankly and yawned, pausing slightly to lick a paw before returning to slumber.

Left to her own thoughts, Estella tried to fathom what her godfather had meant by that last statement. Was Remus undercover in Hogsmeade? Surely not… it would be a widely known fact if a werewolf pack were present within the village limits. If a werewolf intending to transform in Britain did not have a Ministry inspected and approved pen for their transformation, the identity and location of a werewolf had to be made a matter of public record. Custom-building the Shrieking Shack to serve that end had been the only way Remus had been able to attend Hogwarts without his affliction being widely known. Pack werewolves, on the other hand, were known to roam the outdoors freely. Those content with their condition made sure to do so in a safe, controlled environment away from humans; whist a violent contingent preyed on the defenceless.

Though Remus had been bitten in Britain, he had been treated by an aunt in Avignon and referred to the laws there. Had he been treated at St Mungos, a Healer would have registered his condition as a matter of course. The French Ministry, on the other hand, did not require its Healers to report instances of lycanthropy, such was their respect for patient confidentiality. Instead, they requested that any werewolf in the country sequester itself in a secure, unpopulated area; making it widely known that any person caught killing a werewolf would not be held accountable for their actions. Of course, this only invited a pandemic of werewolf slayings; all but wiping out the werewolf population on the west coast of the continent.

A benefit of transforming in Britain, despite the fact that one's condition would be more readily disclosed, was that the Ministry had a greater tolerance towards werewolves who abided by the laws imposed upon them. The blind eye the French cast to the poachers who hunted and killed werewolves for sport was something the British did not aspire to. That said, Britons were much more prejudiced towards those afflicted; whilst the French were mostly ashamed of the actions of a few of their countrymen and went to lengths to protect and accept those they knew to be affected. As such, Remus' family had chosen for his condition to be treated and endured within French jurisdiction until such time as he was old enough to understand the social backlash that would occur when people at home in England found out. Keeping Remus indoors and taking added precautions with the isolated estate's wards had assured his safety as much as was humanly possible. For some time, they'd even contemplated enrolling Remus in Beauxbatons. The fact that his condition would have to be widely known by the school alumni and the knowledge that there would be no deterrent stopping a werewolf hunter to break into the school and kill him, however, swayed their decision.

Thinking again of her godfather's current whereabouts, Estella traced the faint indentation of the man's quill and reread the words. Despite his affirmation, Estella was still under the distinct impression that her godfather was going undercover within the packs that had shunned society and roamed freely in uninhabited wilds during the full moon. All other werewolves… individuals like her godfather who had assimilated as best they could into the mainstream community were readily approachable by any member of the Order and just as likely to cooperate. There was simply no way he was 'closer than she thought'.

"Estella?" A muffled whisper shook her from her thoughts, the owner of the voice causing her heart to skip a beat.

"Moony?" she whispered, awed. Reaching into her bag and pulling out her school robe, she extracted a familiar looking mirror from its pocket. "Moony? What are you doing with the mirror?"

"Oh, well, hello to you too!" her godfather's reflection grinned at her playfully through the charmed glass. "What, don't look so surprised! Didn't you get my parting gift?"

"No, yes, _thank you_, but you… I thought… wasn't Dad… the meetings?" Estella's words ran together like the colliding thoughts in her mind. "What?"

"There can be more than one mirror linked together, you know," Remus tapped his nose accordingly and winked. "Well, actually, we've only managed to get three to maintain a connection for now, but now your Dad's working on finding a way so that all Order members can have one…"

"Wait, so _that's_ what you and Dad were so hush-hush about last week!" Estella's mouth flew open in surprise. She didn't want to set herself up for disappointment by asking the man if his possessing a mirror meant that she should not expect him at a meeting anytime soon. The answer was likely something she'd not want to hear.

"Well, no, not exactly," said Remus sheepishly. "It was mostly Tonks' and myself."

"What? You mean you weren't… Dad said… we were all so sure you two were off…" Estella stopped herself abruptly and blushed crimson. "Uh, nothing…"

Remus chuckled knowingly, his own ears turning pink at everyone's presumptuousness. "I will assume that your father suggested such things in order to throw you off the scent," he said lowly.

"Uh, yeah, okay," said Estella, inwardly disappointed that things between her cousin and godfather were not quite as she had thought. Coming to her senses, she frowned at the mirror. "What are you doing, Remus? Is it entirely safe for you to be calling me?"

Her godfather looked at her appraisingly for a moment before casting his eyes downward. It was hard to tell from the limited acoustics of his reflection to gauge whether or not he had just sighed, but Estella was quick to note that the man's shoulders slumped in guilt.

"For now it is," he said quietly. "But it won't always be so."

"It's okay," Estella was quick to reassure him. "I wasn't even expecting this much contact, so whatever you can do safely I'll make do with."

"I'll try to check in after curfew, before you go to sleep," Remus promised. "You _will_ be in bed by then, I should hope? Keep the mirror on you at all times, though."

"Of course," Estella nodded resolutely in response to both queries. "Can I ask why I need to have it with me all the time, though? Am I to expect a call for help at any moment? What am I supposed to do then?"

"No, no," Remus assured her. "I have other means of requesting assistance. I just may pop in from time to time if you're not busy. Do you know the charm to alert you to a call soundlessly?"

"Yeah, I can either make the mirror vibrate or change temperature, I think, with a variation of the Protean Charm," said Estella. "I promise I won't take it out of my pocket."

"Good," Remus' smile quickly turned into a frown as his eyes caught sight of something beyond the mirror. "Sorry, cub, I got to go. Promise not to worry about me; use the mirror if you ever want to talk, all right? I have ways of getting through to you if I'm unable to talk back."

Estella was still nodding dumbly when her godfather abruptly severed the connection.

"I promise," she resolved to her own determined reflection before stowing the mirror in her pocket, vowing never to jeopardise her godfather's concentration by trying to initiate mirror contact.

Rather than stuffing her school robes back into her bag, Estella changed into them early. No sooner had she straightened her tie and clasped the ends of her robe together did the familiar bustle of the lunch trolley draw her attention to the carriage door.

"Anything from the lunch trolley, dearies?" the woman recited, one hand pulling the carriage door open sightlessly as her attention was drawn to the inventory in her other hand. Looking up, she took in the lone occupant of the carriage and frowned. "All by yourself, are ye? You all right there, child?"

"I'm fine," Estella assured the woman kindly, immediately reminded of Mrs Weasley. "I just needed a quiet place to finish some reading."

The woman nodded slightly, taking the opportunity to look at Estella more closely. Suddenly her eyes lit up. "Your mother and Lily Evans were the same," she said in recognition. "Not that James Potter and that father of yours ever left them alone, the persistent little blighters! It was nice to hear of your father's innocence, lovey…"

"Wait," Estella interrupted, her mouth agape. She'd never known the woman to be so chatty with the passengers before. "You knew my parents?"

"I've been pushing this lunch trolley since before Albus Dumbledore became Headmaster," the woman said reminiscently. "There's not a lot I haven't seen in that time. Never did think it quite right when Sirius Black went to Azkaban. Couldn't believe he'd had it in him… but what did I know, I was just the lunch lady! No one ever asked me for a character reference."

"That'd be because he never had a trial," said Estella. The old lady nodded woefully.

"Dreadful thing, what happened," she shook her head. "Imagine, bringing _Dementors_ onto the Hogwarts Express! Ran clear out of chocolate that day, I did! No one thought to warn me of _their_ presence! Good riddance to Fudge, I say!"

"Can't disagree with that," Estella nodded in agreement. Second to perhaps only Voldemort and Peter Pettigrew, Cornelius Fudge had a lot to answer to when it came to the wrongs inflicted upon her family. Eying the pre-packaged goods on the trolley hungrily and listening to the faint rumblings of disruption as students in the carriages ahead began to wonder why the trolley was stopped so long, Estella pulled out her coin purse. "May I have a Pumpkin Pasty, a Cauldron Cake, two Chocolate Frogs and a bottle of Butterbeer, please? Oh, and some tuna for my Kneazle, if you have any, thank you."

"Why, certainly dear!" the woman complied happily, muttering regrets about not having the time to chat with all of her hungry customers. Handing Estella her change, she snuck her a few Sugar Quills and a Cockroach Cluster. "For your impeccable manners, my dear. Don't get an awful lot of that from students these days," she tutted, sealing the money box and re-arranging the display stock with a flick of her wand. "I'll be up with the driver should you require any further refreshment."

With that, the old woman was off, leaving a surprised Estella in her wake. She'd never given much thought as to where the lunch trolley lady spent the duration of the journey; she'd most certainly never heard of the woman inviting customers to seek her out. Mulling over the strange turn of events, Estella turned her attention to her purchases; first propping Skunk's tin of tuna up on the window sill before tearing into her pasty.

A sudden disruption at the door a short while later caused Estella to choke and splutter on her last mouthful of cake. The doorway opened for a second time to reveal her housemates.

"There you are!" Elsie exclaimed, squealing in excitement as she leapt into the room and threw herself at Estella. "We hadn't heard from you since the party! John was so worried that one of us may have done something to upset you. Reg and I have spent the past hour trying to assure him otherwise; we're right, aren't we? You don't hate us?"

Estella laughed at her friend's forwardness. Sitting across from her – earning himself a feline glare from Skunk as he'd just stolen the Kneazle's resting spot – John averted his gaze, his cheeks flush with embarrassment.

"Jeez, Elsie, talk about us as though we're not here, why don't you?" Reg rolled his eyes, hauling his trunk up onto the luggage racks and collapsing next to John. "Thank goodness we found you, 'Stell… John and I can't get her to shut up!"

"Well someone had to make up the conversation!" Elsie said indignantly, accepting Estella's help in hefting her trunk onto the racks gratefully. "With Estella absent and Luna absorbed in her magazine, I had to speak for three girls!"

Luna? Estella's eyes flew open in surprise. Turning around to reclaim her seat, she was further surprised to see the girl in question curled up on her chair, head absorbed in the latest edition of _The Quibbler_. If Estella didn't know any better, she'd never guess that the Ravenclaw recluse had not been sitting there the entire trip.

The girl beside the window looked up, giving off an aura of distinct dottiness. Perhaps it was the fact that she had stuck her wand behind her left hear for safekeeping, or that she had not given up on wearing her traditional necklace of Butterbeer caps, or that she was reading her magazine upside-down. She did not seem to need to blink as much as normal humans. She stared and stared at John, who had taken the seat opposite her, initially thinking he'd be closest to Estella there.

"Have a good summer, Luna?" Estella asked politely as she sat down between her two dorm mates, trying to figure out why her friends had taken the girl who was notorious for being a drifter.

"Yes," said Luna dreamily, without taking her eyes off John. "Yes, it was quite enjoyable, you know. _You're _Barry Ryan's brother," she added.

"I know I am," said John, shifting uncomfortably under Luna's gaze. It was a well known fact that John's older brother Barry played Keeper for the Irish Quidditch team. Since a very small age, John had been propelled into his brother's shadow, and so he was quite used to comparisons.

Reginald chuckled. Luna turned her pale eyes on him instead. "And yet _you're_ the one on the Quidditch team."

"Well my brother was Captain!" Reg pointed out, rolling his eyes. Roger had graduated the previous term amidst much sadness from their housemates. Now, the team would have to find a new Captain; Reg, having been a reserve Chaser in his second year before Quidditch had been cancelled for the tournament was a hot favourite to step into his brother's shoes now that the Quidditch Pitch was again suitable for playing on. "Merlin, Luna, what planet you been on?"

"Earth," she said as though explaining the concept to a five year old. "My father has yet to meet anyone capable of interplanetary Apparition; though there is a Sorcerer in America who is known to have created a Portkey to Venus."

"Why would anyone want to Portkey to Venus?" John frowned.

"To find a woman, of course!" Luna stated in a matter-of-fact way. "When this Sorcerer transported himself here from Mars he had hoped to find the woman of his dreams here on Earth, but since his quest has failed he's setting his sights on Venus. It's all in last month's issue of _The Quibbler_, you know. My father got an exclusive interview before he departed."

"Oh," the boys didn't know which way to look; each fighting the urge to laugh. Elsie and Estella, meanwhile, exchanged a knowing look. Sharing a dormitory with the eccentric blonde for the past three years, they had come to expect such behaviour. Nothing the girl said to them could surprise them anymore.

The girl in question shrugged at her audience's lack of enthusiasm before raising her upside-down magazine high enough to hide her face and falling silent. Suddenly reminded of something, Estella's eyes lit up.

"Hey, Luna," she said casually. "I don't suppose you got my letter…"

Luna looked up from her magazine. "Of course," she said nonchalantly.

"The letter with the photos?" Estella elaborated.

"Oh, oh yes, yes," Luna said with equal indifference, flicking to a page in _The Quibbler_ and handing the magazine to the girl beside her.

Righting the magazine up the right way, Estella took a moment to smirk at the caricature of Cornelius Fudge on the cover and peruse the headlines before flicking directly to the page Luna had pointed out. Reading the article fully, Estella's grin grew. Handing the magazine back to Luna with a satisfied smile, she thanked her dorm-mate for passing on the 'scoop' to her editor father. Seeing the questioning looks of John and Reg, Estella explained.

"Just something in there that'd appeal to my Dad's sense…sensitivities," she said diplomatically. Estella had wanted to say 'sense of humour', but she didn't know how the loopy Ravenclaw would take it if she found out that she'd only given her the story as a joke. Sure, her father could carry a tune, but since when did he supply lead vocals to a group named The Hobgoblins, or go by the name 'Stubby Boardman'? Estella was not even sure if there ever were a band by such a name. Only the old picture of her father decked out in Punk gear was real. The snapshot had been taken by Remus during the Marauders' fabled trip to Reading in the summer after their graduation. Estella's only regret in colluding with her godfather on the project was not waiting to the end of summer to submit her tip-off to Luna. Had she waited, her father's pseudonym could have been, more aptly, _Stumpy_ Boardman.

Nodding slowly, John looked to be considering his options. "How was your summer?" he blurted abruptly, instantly blushing at his choice of delivery.

Ignoring the boy's obvious discomfort, Estella smiled brilliantly and began to fill her friends in on the last two weeks of her summer. Leaping up enthusiastically, she retrieved her album from inside her book bag and squeezed herself between John and Reg; promising to show the girls properly once they were settled in their dorm.

"So then, right, Harry took off like a Banshee in heat and Dad followed…" Estella's voice trailed off, drowned out by Luna, who had begun laughing shrilly. Instinctively moving her hand to placate Skunk, whose slumbering form was jerked awake by the scream of mirth, Estella thanked her lucky stars that she'd already sent her Owl, Aquila, ahead to the school. She didn't fancy what the majestic, proud avian would do.

Luna laughed so hard her magazine slipped out of her grasp, slid down her legs and on to the floor. "That was _funny_!" Her prominent eyes swam with tears as she gasped for breath, staring Estella as though she had just cracked the funniest joke of the century. "Banshee… Banshee in heat…"

"Oh boy," Reg whispered, shrinking away slightly as Luna's high-pitched laughter assaulted his hearing.

"It's going to be a long year," John muttered, his eyes locking with Estella's.

Seeing the swirling emotions in the quiet Ravenclaw's eyes, Estella inhaled sharply.

"You can say that again," she whispered in agreement, slightly bewildered by the unidentifiable intensity in the boy's eyes.

'_Too close!_' her mind registered suddenly, as she was made intimately aware of how uncomfortably wedged she was between the two teenaged boys. Leaning down to retrieve Luna's magazine, Estella took the opportunity to excuse herself and return to her seat between Luna and Elsie; the latter of whom was watching her strangely. Meeting Elsie's raised brow with one of her own, Estella settled back in her seat, suddenly finding the white stripes on Skunk's back very interesting as an awkward silence passed over the group.

'It's going to be a long _train ride_,' Estella amended to herself; not quite knowing what to make of the building tension between both she and John. When she next looked up, Estella was unsurprised to see that the others had deployed their number-one Ravenclaw defence mechanism – they had buried their noses in books. Sighing silently in relief, Estella thanked the hat for the choice of her house and reached into her bag for her Charms text. With any luck, she should be able to make it through the introductory module before the train pulled into Hogsmeade.

* * *

"Oh, this cannot be good," Estella mused aloud, her gaze flitting from the head table to the Gryffindors and back again, eyes narrowing with each pass.

"What?" Elsie followed her line of sight in confusion, a spoon poised halfway to her mouth as they tucked into their dinner at the start of term banquet.

"Both Harry and my uncle are missing from the Great Hall," Estella pointed out with a frown. "That can only spell trouble."

"Hey, what d'ya reckon happened to Dumbledore's hand?" said Reg suddenly, talking through a mouthful of steak-and-kidney pie to stab his fork towards the Headmaster. Turning around slightly and noticing the blackened and dead-looking appearance of the old man's right hand for the first time, Estella gasped and shook her head.

As though spying their thoughts, Dumbledore shook his purple and gold sleeve over his injury and smiled at them reassuringly.

"You'd imagine a great wizard like him would be able to do something about it," said John reverently.

"Not all injuries can be cured by a Medi-Witch's wand," said Luna gravely.

Elsie nodded. "There are quite a few old curses and potions too I'm sure…"

"It looks like it's dead!" Reg screwed up his nose, looking down unfavourably at his pie and reaching for a chicken leg instead. Changing the subject, he gestured towards a new, but familiar face at the Head Table. "Did everyone see that Grubbly-Plank woman?" he asked. "What's she doing back here? Hagrid can't have left, can he?"

"I'll be quite glad if he has," said Luna, "he isn't a very good teacher, is he?"

The others nodded mutely in agreement. As much as she liked the half-giant as a person, Estella could not help but agree with her fellow housemates about the man's teaching methods. Frankly, all of Ravenclaw thought of his appointment as something of a joke. It wasn't anything they had against the bumbling groundskeeper… it was more an aversion to the subject itself. Bookish by nature, the Ravenclaw brethren simply saw more merit in the more studious disciplines of Ancient Runes and Arithmancy.

Conversation quickly moved onto the submission of their respective holiday assignments, but Estella's mind remained on the umbrella-wielding wizard. In her capacity as an Order member, she knew full well that Hagrid was on a mission for Dumbledore and had journeyed into the treacherous Giant Country to seek support. Bearing genetic traits and 'stunted' growth that belied his father's non-giant genetics, Estella knew that Hagrid would not be received well by the 'true' giants and feared for his safety.

Returning her gaze at the head table, Estella looked up at Dumbledore in question. He hadn't seen her looking yet on account of the squatty looking woman whispering in his ear. Shaking her head in disapproval at the woman's choice of attire – fluffy pink, she thought, could only ever look good on Tonks – Estella averted her eyes when the woman turned her head towards the Ravenclaw table. Chancing a casual look at the woman's features, Estella grimaced at the pallid, toadlike face that greeted her. Noting that the woman's pouchy eyes were presently scanning the Gryffindor table, Estella allowed herself a proper look. Though she was certain that she'd never seen the woman before, there was just something familiar about her appearance that struck a chord with her.

"That's Dolores Umbridge, that is," John stabbed his spoon towards the woman and made a face. Turning back to face her friend, Estella frowned, her suspicions confirmed. Dolores Umbridge had been present at Harry's hearing and was introduced as Fudge's Undersecretary. Estella hadn't been there, of course, but Harry's colourful description of the woman had stayed with her.

"Heard she buttered herself up to 'ol Rufus once the change in administration was announced," Reg added, screwing his face up in disgust. "Me Dad reckons they had a fling, way back when, and now she's usin' it to her advantage."

"Ew, gross!" the others protested, their meals suddenly forgotten.

"What's she doing at Hogwarts?" asked Elsie, glaring at the back of the woman's mousy-brown head as she babbled on in Dumbledore's ear again.

"I heard Scrimgeour was tired of the woman's come ons and posted her here to maintain his own sanity," said John, his slight Irish lilt more evident when he was speaking quickly. Years of sharing a dorm with English boys had made him all but rid him of the accent. "Oh look, Dumbledore's about to give the start-of-term notices…"

At this, the teenagers turned to face the Headmaster and listen intently.

"Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices," said Dumbledore. "First-years ought to know that the Forest in the grounds is out-of-bounds to students – and a few of our older students ought to know by now too."

"Mr Filch, the caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me for the four-hundred-and-sixty-second time, to remind you all that magic is not permitted in corridors between classes, nor are a number of other things; all of which can be checked on the extensive list now fastened to Mr Filch's office door."

"We have had two changes to staffing this year. We are very pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons. We are also delighted to introduce Horace Slughorn, an old colleague of mine who has returned from retirement to resume his previous appointment as Potions Master."

At the myriad of confused, jubilant and bewildered looks amongst the students – Estella included – Dumbledore turned his gaze to the empty _former_ Potions teacher's chair. "I assure you, students, that Professor Snape has not left us…" at this, a collective groan of disappointment rumbled through the Hall. Ignoring this, Dumbledore continued cheerily. "Instead, I am honoured to announce that Professor Snape has graciously accepted a transfer to the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."

Eyes flying up in surprise, Estella gaped openly at the teacher's table. She'd known a new teacher was starting at the school, but Estella had no idea that it was none other than her own Potions tutor – the man who had taught at the school in her parent's time. Looking at the man more closely, nodding in acknowledgement when the man noticed her and waved, Estella admonished herself for not spotting him sooner. She had been so preoccupied wondering about her uncle's whereabouts, she'd clearly not paid much attention to the other teachers at the table. Her eyes landing on the empty chair that Dumbledore was still gesturing to, Estella wondered when her uncle had accepted the transfer. She'd already suspected that the news had been kept from her in order to surprise her along with all the other students. Having grown up at the school, very little about the Welcoming Feast surprised her, and so she all but welcomed the change. It didn't stop her from worrying about the man's present whereabouts, however.

"Now, as everybody in this Hall knows, Lord Voldemort and his followers are once more at large and gaining in strength," Dumbledore carried on in his address, his voice taking on a largely unfamiliar, serious tone.

The silence seemed to tauten and strain as Dumbledore spoke. Around her, students combined in a collective shudder at the evil wizard's name. Estella rolled her eyes at their antics and sat up dead straight in her chair; her attention not leaving the Headmaster again.

"I cannot emphasise strongly enough how dangerous the present situation is, and how much care each of us at Hogwarts must take to ensure that we remain safe. The castle's magical fortifications have been strengthened over the summer. We are protected in new and more powerful ways, but we must still guard scrupulously against carelessness on the part of any student or member of staff. I urge you, therefore, to abide by any security restrictions that your teachers might impose upon you, however irksome you might find them – in particular, the rule that you are not to be out of bed after hours. I implore you, should you notice anything strange or suspicious within or outside the castle, to report it to a member of staff immediately. I trust you to conduct yourselves, always, with the utmost regard for your own and each other's safety."

Dumbledore's blue eyes swept over the students. Estella shivered at the intensity of his words. In all her years of having witnessed countless welcoming speeches, this one had been, by far, the most serious. The echo of her godfather's reflection in the mirror, telling her that she'd better be in her bed after curfew, sprang to mind; reinforcing the gravity of the situation. Much to her – and other student's – relief, Dumbledore was quick to smile again and move onto more pleasant topics.

He continued, "Tryouts for the house Quidditch teams will take place on the…"

He broke off, looking inquiringly at Ms Umbridge. As she was not much taller standing than sitting, there was a moment when nobody understood why Dumbledore had stopped talking, but then the woman cleared her throat, "_hem, hem_," and it became clear that she had got to her feet and was intending to make a speech.

"Oh, of course," said Dumbledore in astonishment. "How could I forget! Do accept my apologies, dear Dolores!" Turning back to the students, he gestured to the woman in introduction. "Students, this is Dolores Umbridge, a Ministry Liaison who will be present with us this year. Do try to make her feel welcome, and do not forget that she retains much the same status as the rest of the staff. I trust that you will all treat her accordingly."

There was a round of polite but fairly unenthusiastic applause. Showing no gratitude for the fanfare afforded to her, the Umbridge woman pulled herself to her full height – which was even shorter than some first-years, and that was saying something – and cleared her throat again. "_Hem, hem_,"

The teachers, meanwhile, looked to their colleague with barely suppressed looks of disdain. Professor Sprout's eyebrows had disappeared into her flyaway hair and Professor McGonagall's mouth was thinner than most anyone had ever seen it before. No teacher, let alone _guest_ of the head table, had ever interrupted Dumbledore before. In their respective houses, students were growing increasingly restless at the woman's disruptive presence. Many scowled and looked to Dumbledore pleadingly for the man to continue informing them of the terms of the Quidditch try-outs. It had been bad enough having to forgo the previous season on account of the tournament. Having to wait again now was torturous for those so looking forward to restarting the competition.

"Thank you, Headmaster," Umbridge simpered, "for those kind words of welcome." Her voice was high-pitched, breathy and little-girlish and Estella knew that before week's end, it will have driven her insane. The vile woman gave another little throat-clearing cough (_"hem, hem"_) and continued. "Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say!" she smiled, revealing very pointed teeth. "And to see such happy little faces looking up at me!"

Estella glanced around, sharing incredulous looks with her friends. None of the faces they could see looked happy. On the contrary, they were largely still reeling from the Headmaster's warning about Voldemort and glaring at the woman who had interrupted him; looking particularly taken-aback by her tone.

"I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all and I'm sure we'll be very good friends!" To Estella's absolute horror, the woman had singled her out and was smiling at her falsely as she spoke. Withering under the Ministry mole's disconcerting gaze, Estella frowned and again wondered where her uncle was.

Beside her, Elsie sniggered. "I'll be her friend so long as I don't have to borrow that cardigan," she whispered, causing Estella to grin and relax.

Umbridge, meanwhile, had shifted her attention to the Gryffindor table. Estella could almost discern a look of puzzlement on the woman's face as she seemed to scan the table for a student. '_She's looking for Harry,'_ she realised with a frown.

When the sour-faced woman continued her preamble, her voice was lacking the breathiness and condescension of her previous address. As she began to inform them of her purpose there at the school, Umbridge's tone belied a professionalism and monotony of a speaker regurgitating facts by heart.

"What was that about?" the Ravenclaws exchanged thoughtful looks once the loquacious woman had stopped waffling on.

"There was an important message underneath the façade," said Luna cryptically, her voice partially muffled by the upside-down magazine she still held in front of her nose. She missed the surprised look her housemates gave each other at her statement – no one had thought she'd been listening. For the most part they were still trying to get their heads around the girl's mere presence. It seemed as though Luna had spoken to them more in the past day than she had in the previous three years, and it was curious to all involved as to what brought about the change.

"The Ministry's interfering at Hogwarts!" John scoffed, appalled at the idea.

The others nodded in agreement, their minds aligned in their suspicions.

"I'd heard the Ministry had posted Aurors in Hogsmeade just in case Voldemort shows up," said Estella casually. Tonks, she knew, had been deployed to the village and was but one of a small contingent that had been officially assigned the task of keeping an eye on things. Then, unbeknownst to even the Ministry, Dumbledore had invited skilled Order members to patrol the Castle's grounds at night, providing further protection for the school.

"Yeah, my uncle's one of them," said Reg. "Roger's staying with him in the village until Dad can talk Mum into letting him try out for a professional Quidditch team. She wants him to become an Auror like her brother and 'do something constructive' with his time."

"Oh, look, here's Harry!" John nodded towards the door over Estella's shoulder, causing the Ravenclaw to drop her spoon in her bowl of Chocolate Gateau and turned swiftly on the bench. "Merlin, what happened to his face?"

Estella pushed aside the automatic suspicion that her uncle, who had slunk into the room behind Harry, may have had something to do with Harry's appearance. As much as she liked to think that she knew the man better than most, when it came to Harry Potter, her uncle was just about capable of anything. Taking in the pink-faced Gryffindor's Muggle attire and downward eyes as he all but ran to his friends, Estella began to rack her brain; trying to remember whether or not she'd actually seen the boy get off the train.

A slight buzz of movement at the table beyond Luna's shoulder drew Estella's attention to Draco Malfoy, who was miming the shattering of a nose to great acclaim at the Slytherin table. Catching his eyes, she gave him a disapproving glare and shook her head in disgust before turning to wave at Harry, who shrugged and smiled back at her.

Waiting until the disruption from Umbridge's speech and Harry's arrival had died down, Dumbledore smiled patiently before continuing on about Quidditch try-outs.

"And now," he concluded merrily, his eyes twinkling warmly. "Your beds await, as warm and comfortable as you could possibly wish, and I know that your top priority is to be well-rested for your lessons tomorrow. Let us therefore say goodnight. Pip pip!"

With the usual deafening scraping noise, the benches were moved back and the hundreds of students began to file out of the Great Hall towards their dormitories. Excusing herself quickly from her housemates, Estella ducked out of the room before Malfoy could question her about her glare. Part of her had wanted to seek Harry out and find out how he had gotten his face all bloodied, but she knew she had more pressing matters to attend to. She had to speak with Dumbledore.

**END CHAPTER: TRAIN RIDES**

**NEXT CHAPTER: SURPRISING REVELATIONS**

**Summary:** Estella goes to Dumbledore for some answers, only to find the old man up to his old, meddling tricks. With age and House now between them, the familial closeness Estella and Harry shared is tested. What surprises does Severus have in store, and why does her Head of House have a problem with keeping still?

**DUE**: _Hopefully_ on New Year's, but it really, _really_ depends on how much writing I get done between now and when work begins again on Thursday. If I've not posted by midnight, it will be the following Friday (6th)

**Special Thanks: **1 character. 365 days. 107 chapters. Over 450,000 words… and still 19 chapters to go (approximately). To think, that when I started writing the prequel to this story I had planned to have Estella out of my system by March. Perhaps I should have been a little more specific and specified March of which _year_…

To all the people who have been with me since the beginning, and to all those faithful reviewers I have picked up along the way, you have been the single most important thing that has kept me going with this story; and I cannot thank you all enough for your continued support and patience. To _rocks my socks_, who wrote the very first review within an hour of me having posted and being the sole reviewer for the first several days. To _Padfoot'smoon_ who goes to extraordinary lengths to get her fix. To _Rowenhood_, who seems to keep a closer eye on the review numbers than I do. To _SeverusSnape'sLove_, _Daughter of Darkness_, _Torri-Chiobie _and _Moonfire-lovr _for consistently reviewing both fics from what feels like the beginning. To _BabeBunny_ and _Silly Penguin_, for the laughs. To _EsScaper_, who had 'caught up' with the story by reading and reviewing each of the 40-odd chapters I had posted at the time and nearly giving me a coronary when I opened my inbox. I know that there's close to 200 reviewers I have missed, but I just wanted to illustrate how much each review means to me.

Finally, to my wonderful Beta, _3-Legged Dog_, who is so much more than a word technician and creative soundboard for putting up with the likes of me!


	12. Surprising Revelations

**Disclaimer**: Still not mine…

**Updated: **Tuesday 7th February

A/N: massive apologies for the delay. I have updated my author's profile in an attempt to offer a bit of a explanation to where I am at. Thank you all for your infinite patience and understanding.

**Chapter 12: Surprising Revelations**

"Ah, Estella, what a pleasant surprise!" Albus Dumbledore looked up from his position behind his desk and acknowledged Estella's entrance warmly.

The paranoid Ravenclaw was immediately on alert – the old man's smile of assurance only serving to disarm her further. As two of Fawkes' 'chosen ones', both Estella and Harry had been given unprecedented access to the Headmaster's office and quarters. Though it would not have been hard for either teen to deduct the Gargoyle's password for themselves; it was readily acknowledged that either Order member, for whatever reason, may require urgent access to the tower. While Harry had been quietly smug of the privilege in light of the fact not even Severus Snape was afforded such unprecedented right of way, Estella was still not sure how to take it. On some level, she suspected that all of the apparent special privileges were just one of the Headmaster's roundabout ways of lulling them into a false sense of security. Though the reaction of the Order members to Fawkes' behaviour appeared genuine enough, Estella simply could not put it past the Headmaster to have conspired with the great bird to further manipulate them all. Even if he had not, it would be just the Headmaster's style to convince everyone that he viewed the teenagers as important, only to blind them with ceremonious titles and rights; not really giving them any real involvement or power. For all they knew, Fawkes was just drawn to the 'innocence' of children and will have done the same of any young teenager. It certainly would explain why Dumbledore was so normally adamant about the children of Order members being uninvolved.

"I was wondering which of you two would seek to test out the nature of our _little arrangement_ first," said Dumbledore pleasantly, picking up a crystal bowl of yellow sweets and holding it out to his unexpected guest. "Lemon drop?"

"No, thank you," said Estella, knowing better than to accept any food directly from the old man. It was ridiculous, she knew, distrusting the Headmaster so much; but one could never be too careful. She suspected that she'd been on 'survival-mode' ever since the events of earlier that summer.

"So, what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" asked Dumbledore, settling back down in his chair. Estella noted absently that he'd yet to offer her a cup of tea; though she supposed that he could probably tell she was being cautious around him. "I must confess I wasn't expecting a visit so soon! Has something happened that you wish to report?"

"Nothing untoward occurred today," Estella assured him slowly. "But I did wish to discuss something with you before the school term was underway."

At this, Estella cast a meaningful look at Fawkes, who noted her presence happily and flew over to rest on her shoulder.

"Ah, yes," sighed Dumbledore, his eyes regarding Fawkes with a hint of sadness. "Have you figured it out, then?"

"Figured what out?" Estella asked before she could stop herself. She stared into the fire distractedly for a moment before taking a deep breath and continuing. "I may not know the specifics, Headmaster, but I could tell there was more to it than what you disclosed at the meeting."

"Oh, please, call me Albus when we are alone," said Dumbledore kindly, catching Estella by surprise. "Fawkes has as good as marked us as equals."

"What? Ridiculous! There's nothing noteworthy about me!" said Estella. It wasn't that she was modest or oblivious to her abilities; she just knew that she wasn't much different from anyone else. And for the oldest wizard she knew to ask _her_ to call him by his first name? Any moment, Estella expected to hear the eerie refrain of the _Twilight Zone_.

"One does not have to be magically or superior in age to be marked by a Phoenix, Estella," said Dumbledore quietly. "You need only the right intent."

Estella pondered this for a moment, and when it became clear that the older wizard was not going to explain further, she began to scan her mind for things she may have read over the summer. "You knew that there was a chance of Fawkes doing that and yet you didn't warn us?" asked Estella, finally.

"One does not expect to see it twice in their lifetime," said Dumbledore cryptically. Looking at the man's eyes, Estella suddenly knew that her suspicion that the man was keeping something from her was justified. Rather than accuse the man of manipulation, however, another thought struck her. What if he was simply indulging her Ravenclaw disposition for finding things out in books? So far, what the man had told her seemed almost unfathomable; she had a feeling that if he were to tell her the full extent of Fawkes' behaviour, she'd want to back up the information with a written resource anyway. A trip to the library, therefore, was inevitable either way she looked at it… and, by holding back, Dumbledore was simply giving her something to find.

Nodding in unspoken understanding, Estella looked at the Headmaster knowingly, a look of '_I-know-what-game-you're-playing'_ lit on her features. Not one to waste a good opportunity, however, she took the opportunity to address the specifics of her mission.

"About my mission objectives…" she said, her voice trailing off

"Yes, come to think of it, I am glad that you came and sought me out," said Dumbledore disarmingly. "Forgive me for lacking the foresight and not summoning you to my office directly. I imagine your schedule would have appeared foreign, otherwise."

"What provisions have been made on my schedule?" asked Estella. Students would not receive their timetables until morning.

"Following an academic review of your results," said Dumbledore, pulling a file out of his drawer that Estella immediately recognised as her own. "How would you like to study Ancient Runes independently?"

"Independently?" Estella furrowed her brow. "I guess the syllabus is largely text-based… but I don't understand, why?"

"As you may or may not be consciously aware of the fact, the process of broom design borrows quite extensively from the discipline of Runes, Charms, and… Transfiguration."

Estella groaned. The Headmaster continued. "Now, I think it is quite clear that you cannot afford to forfeit your position in Minerva's class, no?" Estella nodded slowly. Dumbledore looked almost relieved at the lack of contention. "Now, as it so happens, at the times when your Ancient Runes classes are scheduled, your Head of House is not required to be teaching. As such, both he and Benson have volunteered to assist you in their respective fields."

"And what of Transfiguration?" asked Estella, chewing on her bottom lip.

"With any luck Benson will be able to handle that aspect for you," said Albus carefully. "Since the magic you will be drawing from to implement this project derives from him, there will not be any adverse effects."

"Like when the charms on those pre-manufactured brooms wore off?" asked Estella, referring to the brooms she had charmed over Christmas and her most recent attempts on Harry's Firebolt.

"Precisely," the elder wizard said. "And you needn't worry about the volume of your schoolwork. I daresay your efforts will acquire you partial credit in Ancient Runes. You will not have to do all the same coursework as your classmates in that regard."

"Kind of like how the Weasley Twins are working on their inventions in every class?"

"Yes, quite like that," said Dumbledore. "Exactly like that, indeed."

Luckily, in both the Twins' and, more importantly, Estella's, cases, an old, little-known by-law of the School's Constitution permitted students to begin 'vocational training' whilst still in school . Following one year of elective study, students, in the past, were routinely invited to enroll in a vocational program. The aims of these placements were to broaden a pupil's education experience to be inclusive of both magical theory and wand-work, as well as its application in a chosen field.

As the years passed and society changed, however, businesses became more and more unscrupulous. Rather than volunteering their time to expound upon the skills students were specialising in at school and teaching them how to apply the knowledge in a real work environment; business proprietors readily exploited the situation. When the then Headmaster had caught wind of the undue influence his students were under, a successful application was made to the school Governors to make participation in the initiative all but impossible. Having amended the conditions rather over zealously led to even those with the best intentions being driven away. Little gain was worth the scrutiny of the new screening process. More years went by, businesses changed hands, generations passed… and eventually the very existence of such a program had become the stuff of legends. For the most part, people had just assumed the school had stopped doing it altogether.

Thinking of this, Estella regarded the Headmaster with a pensive look. "Are you sure you want to open this can of worms, Professor?" she said. "Won't Voldemort take it as an invitation to try and infiltrate the school? There are a lot of Death Eater's children here at the school who would surely nominate themselves to the program…"

"I can assure you that no agent of Tom's will manage to pass the selection criteria," promised Dumbledore. "And please, according to Fawkes there should be no distinction between us. Call me Albus."

Estella stared at the Headmaster in disbelief. Had the man gone completely senile?

"With all due respect, _Headmaster_," Estella persisted in addressing the man by his rightful title. "I do not think it wise to assume the infallibility of such selection techniques. Need I remind you of this school's history with Defence Against the Dark Arts professors?" she paused for effect. "As to your insistence that I call you by your given name, sir…" she smiled. "If Fawkes is as correct as you say about there being no distinction between us, then may I suggest that you bear in mind that such conditions also mean that I reserve the right to decide for myself what I call you and what directions of yours I choose to follow."

Albus Dumbledore stared at the determined student before him. With her short stature and pig tails she could pass for an innocent ten year old. One look at her face, however, told a different story. Eyes that had seen much more than their fair share of horrors gleamed at him determinedly like globes of steel. The sharp, aristocratic bone structure of her cheeks and jaw line borrowed from both sides of her bloodlines. Though she may have lacked the striking beauty of her mother, she was neither plain nor unsightly. He'd already noticed the young girl turn a few heads, and Albus could only suppose that the hormonal young men were drawn to the strength of her character, and poise. From the way she carried herself when she walked – as silent and graceful as her uncle – to her forwardness and impenetrable moral honesty; the girl exuded both confidence and an insightfulness far beyond her years. She was neither precocious or selfish, but rather rational and loyal. Her marks, particularly in Transfigurations, were not overly spectacular, but she managed to retain just what she needed and nothing more. A sharp wit and pointed tongue – most likely a direct influence of all three men in her life – veiled the slightest of insecurities within, Dumbledore could tell, but her mind was closed to him. With her keen, analytical, logical mind, Dumbledore could only surmise that the young Ravenclaw – who could just as easily been at home in any of the houses – had a way of working through things that very few would think possible of a teenager.

Leaning back in his chair thoughtfully, Dumbledore came to a rare crossing. Estella Black, he concluded, was a true chameleon of form… capable of adapting and thriving in just about any environment. He found himself feeling a fleeting moment of disappointment that Sirius had ever been found innocent, for it had cost him a future spy. There had been no doubt that that's where young Estella would have been headed if she had remained in her uncle's guardianship. With Lucius Malfoy displaying a vested interest in the girl from the moment of her birth, Albus knew that there would have been a place for her high up in the Dark Lord's ranks. And in light of the senior Mr Malfoy's contract on her father's life, there could very well still be…

"Quite right, young lady," Albus said finally, dismissing his meandering thoughts. The child was simply too strong willed and aware to fall for his ministrations. The only way she'd ever infiltrate the Dark Lord's circles would be on her own terms; that, Albus knew, would pose a dangerous risk over his tenuous hold over the side of the light. Already, he had started to lose face in the eyes of the other Order members because of the way he'd been backed into a corner and outplayed by a 13 year-old. Still, he found he couldn't be too surprised. Given who the child's parents were and how she was raised, she was always destined to be her own person.

"Having fun trying to get into my mind, _Albus_?" Estella asked suddenly, deliberately using his first name to unbalance the old wizard who'd come not to expect it from her. "I may not be as proficient as my uncle, but I can block a Hippogriff if I am determined enough."

"And you're determined enough to want to keep _me_ out of your head?" Dumbledore mused aloud.

"Only because I can imagine how much it must torture you to not know something," smirked Estella. "I've nothing to hide. You need only know the right questions to ask."

"Ah, not one to give anything away, I see," said Albus, his eyes twinkling.

"Just returning the favour there, Professor," said Estella, implying the cryptic responses the old man had been giving her about Fawkes earlier.

Once the logistics of Estella's co-curricular activities had been addressed, Estella moved the conversation towards something else that had been bothering her. "Why did you send Hagrid to the Giants?" she asked. "He is not truly one of them. I don't see how having him attempt to advocate for you will result in anything other than Hagrid getting hurt."

"As with any decision in a time of war, dear child," said Dumbledore wearily. "No situation is without risk. Hagrid may only be a half-giant, but he stands a better chance appealing to their sensibilities than anyone else on this side of the war."

Estella remained unconvinced. Though she knew from her History lessons that Giants on the side of Voldemort would be a devastating blow to the coalition; she also knew that any effort to persuade the species otherwise would not deter them. If they were dark, they were dark. An – in their eyes, anyway – inferior half-breed trying to talk them around would only serve to drive them away in dissent. She knew it were very foolish to rely on inter-species support. In the first war, Voldemort called upon vampires and werewolves to serve him to varying degrees of success. Whilst the vampires were quick to distance themselves and become neutral once Tom started swelling his ranks with Inferi; werewolves were habitually pack creatures. The Snark Lord's methods of forcing the less loyal to do his bidding by being intimidating and threatening loved ones rubbed the Alphas of the packs the wrong way. In a rare instance of cooperation, the affected packs colluded their resources and defected to the side of neutrality. With an evil dictator on one side attempting to threaten them into submission on one side, and a bigoted Ministry rife with prejudice and belittlement on the other, the werewolves owed no one.

"All right, so why did you send Remus into pack territory, then?" she persisted in her attempt to hold the wizard accountable. "The packs won't join again. Not after what happened last time. It's the exiled you have to worry about."

By 'exiled', Estella was referring to the werewolves who had either been expelled from their pack, or never integrated into one. Those that became pack often did so either because their family was all bitten, or the werewolf who afflicted them with their curse was Alpha and had claimed them. As for people like her godfather, who were amongst an alarming number of young people turned for sport or retribution, they were looked down upon by the orthodox pack communities. In some ways, it wasn't much different to the kind of contempt a close knit family would have towards an unwanted illegitimate offspring. These werewolves, subsequently, were at greater risk of being lulled into Voldemort's service because not only were they shunned and ostracised from mainstream magical society, but they were also treated indifferently by their peers.

"Have you heard of Fenrir Greyback, Estella?" asked Dumbledore sadly. Estella shook her head slowly, ignoring the slight twinge that had begun to settle in the pit of her stomach. "Fenrir Greyback is perhaps the most fearsome and unscrupulous werewolf of this time. His bloodlust is so insatiable, that he does not confine his killing sprees to the full moon. Even the strongest of the packs fear him… which is why, in light of Greyback's association with Voldemort, the position of the packs can no longer be assured."

"But… but why Remus?" asked Estella, her mouth suddenly dry. "What hold would he have over the packs? He is _persona non gratis_ amongst other werewolves because he has chosen to keep living normally…"

"Because he is the only individual to cross Fenrir Greyback and prosper," interrupted Dumbledore wearily.

Estella narrowed his eyes at the old man. There had to be something more to it than that. "Assuming Greyback is so horrible that he's accountable for a majority of the werewolf-related deaths, then doesn't it stand to reason that the packs have already been defying him all this time anyway because they don't put themselves in a position to harm others?"

"Yes, in a way," said Dumbledore. "But I assure you that your godfather is a special case."

"Why?" Estella sucked in a gasp when it suddenly became clear to her. "Oh, God… Greyback bit him, didn't he? He's defied his Alpha…"

Seeing the look of unadulterated panic on the young girl's features, Albus was quick to try and pacify the stricken child. "Yes, I acknowledge that your godfather's mission is not one to be taken lightly. He is a remarkable, brave man of which you should be very proud."

"His life is in danger?" said Estella, her voice almost a whisper as the slight twinge in her belly metastasised into a full blown stab.

"The packs will provide him with amnesty," said Dumbledore. "I assure you that they almost fear your godfather as much as they do the man who afflicted him."

It made sense that other werewolves would be awed and reverent of one reticent enough to defy his Alpha. At the same time, though…

"The Alphas will feel threatened by him!" said Estella, frowning. "They will think he is out to make the others defect!"

"I cannot deny that it may be a risk," admitted Dumbledore. "It is hoped that he can hold an audience with them without being an inadvertent threat to their territory. I assure you, however, that suitable precautions have been taken to ensure your godfather a safe passage should he need to extract himself quickly."

"And if someone feels slighted by his presence and tips off Greyback without anyone knowing?"

"Your godfather will know what to do," said Albus, implying that Estella call on the trust she had in her godfather to appease her. It was a polite, but distinct indicator that she end her questions.

"Very well," she said briskly, rising from her chair. "If there will be nothing else, I should like to get settled in my dormitory."

"Ah yes, it is getting frightfully late," said Dumbledore, his tone lighter and face more relaxed than it had been moments earlier. "Forgive me for keeping you so long!"

Nodding curtly, Estella made note of the barely concealed fatigue on the old wizard's features and bid her goodnight. For a moment, she was all but certain that she had seen a flicker of remorse in the Headmaster's eyes. As though she had caught a glimpse of his soul itself, she realised with sudden clarity that Albus Dumbledore was only human. Just like any mortal being, even he was capable of crumbling under the weight of his responsibility and making errors of judgement. If she was in his position, she didn't suppose she'd enjoy having to send people off into life-threatening situations whilst she was comparatively safe being in charge of a school. By the look on Dumbledore's face, it appeared that he didn't think too highly of it either.

Sensing the man's fallibility almost as though the normally unassuming wizard had purposefully broadcast his vulnerabilities to her, Estella nodded more slowly.

"I think I understand," she said quietly, not stopping to wait for a response as she let herself out of the office, bound for the spiral staircase.

As the door clicked shut softly behind her, Estella was almost certain she'd heard the wizard she'd left behind say that he was sorry. Mentally assessing the many things the old man could have been apologising for, Estella realised that though she may never be able to fully trust the man again, she'd already forgiven him.

* * *

Inexplicably waking up before dawn the next day, Estella could not get back to sleep. She'd lain awake for what seemed like hours after her discussion with the Headmaster. By all definition, she should be exhausted as she could hardly have cleared more than a handful of hours in sleep; yet she was resoundingly alert. Careful not to disturb the light rumblings of her sleeping dorm-mates, Estella rose quietly and gathered her things for the bathroom. After getting ready for the day and grabbing her book-bag, Estella left the Ravenclaw Tower.

With the Great Hall darkened and void of activity, Estella wandered through the familiar corridors of the school listlessly. Having shared a room with Harry for most of the summer, Estella found that she'd missed his presence first thing in the morning and last thing at night. Boys, she realised, habituated a room differently to girls. So, after swinging past the kitchens to pick up a hamper of breakfast goods, she by-passed the quarters in the dungeons she'd originally set out for and headed towards Gryffindor Tower.

"Harry!" she shook the sleeping boy quietly, her voice in a hoarse whisper. Even though she'd crept up into the boy's dormitory sight unseen and had closed Harry's curtains around her with a privacy spell for good measure, she couldn't help but keep her voice down.

"Estella?" Harry sat up almost immediately, not unfamiliar with her ways of waking him up. "What are you doing in here? How'd you get in?"

"Don't tell me I have to explain the virtues of a door knob to you as well!" said Estella in mock exasperation. She'd come in through the teacher's entrance her uncle had shown her years before; but that wasn't entirely relevant. "I brought you breakfast in bed for your first day of classes!"

"What did you do to it?" Harry squinted his eyes at Estella suspiciously. She handed him his glasses and bent down to pick up the hamper by her feet.

"I resent that!" she said, though she couldn't blame him for being suspicious after the summer they'd just had together. "Look, I'll even take a bite of everything first, see?"

Unable to resist the inviting aromas of freshly baked muffins and the sweet smell of ripe fruit, Harry accepted a share of Estella's bounty. With Estella making herself comfortable next to Harry as he sat propped up against the bed board, the two reminisced about their summer and caught up since they'd not spoken to each other since early on their train ride.

"Professor Slughorn was on the train?" asked Estella, surprised.

"Yeah, he invited a bunch of us into Compartment C for lunch," said Harry. "Even Slytherins."

"Well that's not surprising since he _is_ a Slytherin!" Estella rolled her eyes at Harry's slightly stunned look. "Does he still go on about an intolerance to Liquorice Wands and surround himself with people that make him look good?"

"I thought you liked your Potions tutor?"

"I did… I do," said Estella, shrugging. "But that doesn't mean I have to stand for his behaviour. No, he and I had an understanding from the beginning. I went to him to learn Potions… I didn't want to join his little Slug Club of favoured alumni."

Harry shrugged, brushing the crumbs of his banana muffin off his pyjama leg. "Still, I'm looking forward to his class," he said. "Maybe with no one breathing down my neck I'll start to do better."

"Maybe," said Estella quietly, not quite able to understand how her uncle could continue to single Harry out after all this time. "So why were you late coming to dinner? You hadn't even changed into your robes yet."

"What, you're not going to ask me how I got a bloody nose?" asked Harry, feigning hurt.

"I already know what happened to your nose," said Estella grimly. "I saw Malfoy's face when you walked in. That's beside the point. What were you doing putting yourself in a position to be attacked like that?"

"Oh, you're one to talk, Miss I-might-just-take-a-stroll-down-Knockturn-Alley!" said Harry, raising a brow. At Estella's glacial glare, he backed off. "All right, so I kinda used my cloak to spy on the Slytherins after Zambini headed back there from Slughorn's lunch."

Estella bit back a retort, knowing full too well that it wasn't her place to tear into the young, foolish Gryffindor when her own behaviour had not been much different in following both Draco and Lucius to Borgin and Burke's. "Be careful, Harry," she said finally. "He's dangerous. My uncle says there's no redeeming him."

"I'll say," said Harry darkly. "Not that he couldn't be anymore obvious. Do you know when Tonks and I saw him in Madame Malkin's he refused to roll up his sleeve to be measured? And when I overheard him talking to the other Slytherins in the carriage he was going on about being on some mission or something for _him_."

"He could have just been trying to save face in the light of not being invited to Slughorn's carriage, Harry, with that last bit," said Estella thoughtfully. "Or maybe he was deliberately exaggerating because he knew you were there?"

"I still think he's a carbon copy of his father, the bastard," said Harry, his body going rigid. "Stay away from him, Estella, I mean it! He might have treated you all right in the past, but he's up to something."

"A Malfoy is always up to something," said Estella, smirking slightly. "But so is a Snape, and so is a Black."

"You scare me sometimes, Estella," said Harry, shivering slightly at the implications of her words.

Estella said nothing. Her mind was too busy piecing together segments of what her uncle had said with Harry's news that Draco as good as admitted to working for the Dark Lord. Was Draco's early servitude Lucius' toll for asking Voldemort to spare her life? Estella didn't know what she felt about that… it was too much like a life debt for comfort.

Both children were roused from their respective musings by a muffled voice singing loudly. "Oh what a beautiful morning, oh what a beautiful day…" the teens could hear Sirius' voice coming from a pocket in Estella's robe.

"Bugger," said Estella, inwardly reminding herself that she really ought to charm the mirror to be more discreet. Pulling the little handheld device out from her robes, she rolled her eyes at her father's reflection. "You know, Dad, you're not going to get any owls if you keep bugging me on the two-way."

"Three-way," Sirius reminded his daughter. "Moony says he caught you on the train yesterday. I'm glad you got off okay. Nice of you to mirror-call and let me know, hmm?"

"In a carriage full of teenagers?" said Estella. "I'm sorry, I forgot."

"You leave me for an hour and already you're forgetting me?" asked Sirius. "Oh, the pain!"

Beside Estella, Harry started to chuckle dryly. In the mirror, Estella could have sworn she'd seen her father's ears twitch. "Who's with you? Where are you? You should still have been in bed! No one is ever up this early on the first day of classes!" said Sirius, his eyes looking as though they wanted to direct the way in which Estella was pointing the mirror.

"Well, there's a first for everything," said Estella. "Woke up early and thought I'd go surprise Harry with breakfast in bed. He's with me now."

"Wait, you're in… in bed with Harry?" Sirius' eyes widened at Estella's nod, and he grinned. "And they say history never repeats! Estella, did I ever tell you what your mother did for me on our first day of fifth year?"

A memory hit Estella's mind like a bludger. It had been the first day of term during her time in the past. Her parents had just begun to date over the previous summer, and as a fellow Ravenclaw, Estella, as Aries, had seen her mother sneak out of their dormitory early on the first day of classes.

"I… I thought she just went to the library!" said Estella. At her father's wiggling eyebrows, she groaned. "Not this _again_! Ugh, Harry, talk sense into him!"

Harry, however, was too busy cringing in his own embarrassment. Though they had just spent the entire summer as practically brother and sister, their guardian never spared an opportunity to remind the pair of how their parents had once romanticised about them ending up together. "No way!" both teenagers scowled at the mirror in defiance.

Sirius sighed. "Pity," he said insincerely, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "It's good to see you two looking out for each other." As a sensible afterthought, he added; "not so sure I'm comfortable about you traipsing the corridors alone before dawn though, kiddo."

"_Dad_!" Estella exclaimed. "Come on! Hogwarts is the safest place to be!"

"Says the girl who passed Voldemort the butter for an entire year!" snickered Harry, referring to when Quirrel had been Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher the year before Estella began classes.

"So? When the Snark Lord develops high cholesterol and drops dead of a heart attack next time you duel him, you'll thank me!" retorted Estella, not missing a beat.

"Only if you haven't chewed his ear off before I get a crack at him!" Harry threw back.

Meanwhile, Sirius was shaking his head in a mix of awe and amazement. "To think we actually let you lot into the Order! Ratbags, the pair of you!"

"What'd you disappear off to Dumbledore's office last night for anyway?" Harry asked suddenly. "I tried to find you after the feast and your friends said you couldn't get to his office fast enough."

"Albus and I just had a few matters to discuss," said Estella with a false tone of importance. "Can you believe he actually asked me to call him Albus in private? I won't though, but I just wanted to see your faces!"

"What did you have to speak with him about so early in the school year?" Sirius was frowning. "I know this is what you want to do, kiddo, but spare a mind for your schooling, hmm? I don't just mean your schoolwork either – you have to enjoy being a kid while you can. That goes for _both_ of you."

"Well that's it exactly, Dad," said Estella. "I wanted to clear a few things up with him so that they wouldn't get in the way of me being with my friends when it counts." Her father still looked troubled. "Listen, maybe we ought to cut the coot some slack. He's clearly gotten the point now. I don't think he'll underestimate us again anytime soon."

Before either Harry or Sirius could comment on Estella's words, Harry's dorm-mates began to stir into wakefulness as a charmed clock begun to chime. Noting the time, Sirius acted. "Have a good day at school, kids," he said quickly. "Estella, I'll see you on Friday night."

Friday night was the next Order meeting, and Estella was scheduled to give a report. Nodding wistfully, Estella handed the mirror to Harry whilst she banished the breakfast things back to the kitchen with her wand so that he could say goodbye to her father. Accepting the weathered piece of glass back from the bespectacled boy, she made sure the connection was severed before wrapping the mirror back up and stowing it away in her pocket. Picking up her book bag, and wordlessly accepting Harry's Invisibility Cloak, she wrapped it around herself just in time for Harry to pull back the curtains around his bed and say good morning to his fellow housemates. Slipping out the door behind Neville as he shuffled along towards the bathroom, she darted down the stairs, unseen, to wait in the Common Room. There, she could take off the cloak and return it to Harry when he came down the stairs. The other Gryffindor house members would then just assume that one of their own had given the young Ravenclaw the password or had let her in themselves.

"Estella?" a questioning voice called out to Estella, and she opened her eyes from where she'd been dozing slightly in the soft recline of a leather armchair. "What are you doing down here?"

"Oh, morning, Ginny," Estella yawned, her early morning catching up with her. "I just came over to see Harry. Was kinda strange waking up and not having him in the room with me like I did most of the summer."

"Is that his cloak?" Ginny frowned. "You were in the boy's dorms?"

"Yeah," shrugged Estella. "Brought me n' Harry up some breakfast… though I daresay he'll probably eat another helping in the Great Hall, being a growing boy and all."

Estella watched the young redhead as her lips narrowed into thin strips, and frowned. "You, ah, you don't have to worry about competition or anything," said Estella carefully. "If that's what's bothering you. I don't think of Harry in _that_ way."

"And I do?" said Ginny a little _too_ defensively to mean it, Estella thought. "What, I can't have a crush on Harry! Not anymore anyway… I'm going out with Dean you know!"

"Uh, yeah, whatever you say," said Estella, though she could just tell that her classmate was deluding herself if she thought she didn't still have unrequited feelings for Harry.

"Hmmm," Ginny narrowed her eyes at the dark-haired Ravenclaw. "Are you sure it's not _you_ with the crush? You keep saying that he's like a brother to you, but it sounds to me as though you're trying to convince yourself of that more than anything else."

"Would you rather I did have _those_ kind of feelings for my father's godson?" asked Estella, putting her Slytherin side to work. Catching the panicked look in the youngest Weasley's eyes as the girl momentarily thought Estella was admitting to such feelings for Harry, she smirked in silent victory. "I thought not…" her eyes travelled up the stairs to where footsteps were approaching before crossing back to look the Gryffindor in the eye. "A word of advice, though? You're going to have to put that lion's courage to work and make the first move if it's what you want because he never will; least of all when he thinks you're involved with someone else."

"It's not what I want," said Ginny firmly, but by the look on her face, Estella could tell that she wasn't even convinced of that fact.

"Suit yourself," Estella shrugged nonchalantly. "All the same, if it _were_, I'd be worrying about Cho Chang, not me."

Ginny had opened her mouth to retort again when they were interrupted by an exclaiming Hermione. The bushy-haired Gryffindor had come downstairs and made her usual beeline towards the noticeboard, only to be surprised by its contents.

"Oh for heaven's sake! They are the limit," said Hermione grimly, drawing their attention to a flier the Weasley twins had erected to advertise for test subjects. The conscientious Prefect wasted no time in removing the brightly coloured page, revealing the official school notice of the first Hogsmeade weekend in October.

As though cursed with perennially bad timing, Ron and Harry entered the Common Room just as Hermione turned around. The twins' sign still in her hand, she stormed up to the taller redhead and waved the offending piece of paper in the bewildered boy's face.

"Ron, we have to talk to your brothers!"

"Why?" Ron looked positively alarmed.

"Because we're prefects!" said Hermione, as she climbed through the portrait hole, causing the others to hustle along in her wake. The last to go through the portrait hole with Harry, Estella could hear the bushy-haired prefect still tearing strips off of Ron. "It's up to us to stop this kind of thing!"

"Aren't you glad you didn't make prefect?" said Estella quietly whispering in Harry's ear as he looked ahead at Ron's slumped shoulders in sympathy.

Amidst their discussion, Harry and Estella had fallen back from Ron, Ginny and Hermione. Harry had just moved onto the subject of Quidditch and was reaching into his pocket to pull something out to show Estella, when someone walked around the corner towards them.

"Hello, Harry!"

It was Cho Chang and, what was more, she was on her own again. This was most unusual; Cho was almost always surrounded by a gang of giggling girls.

"Hi," said Harry, ignoring Estella's snigger at his expression.

"You got all that stuff off, then?" Cho was referring to the horrible Stinksap that had permeated their last encounter. As though seeing Estella for the first time, the dark-haired girl looked down her nose at the younger student. "You're Snape's niece, aren't you? Third year, right?"

"Fourth, actually," said Estella though gritted teeth.

"Oh, well I wouldn't know it from your size," Cho looked her up and down scathingly. "Oh, that's right, your birthday's later in the year, isn't it? You get _special_ permission to start school early? Your uncle being a head of house and all…"

"Yeah, whatever, Chang," said Estella with an equally false tone. Noticing the glint of a badge on the annoying girl's robes, she pointed. "Is that a _Tornados_ badge? You don't support _them_, do you?"

"Yeah, I do," said Cho.

"Have you always supported them, or just since they started winning the league?" said Estella in an accusatory tone of voice. Her summer with a houseful of Quidditch fans was evidently beginning to rub off.

"I've supported them since I was six," said Cho coolly. "Anyway… see you, Harry."

She walked away. Harry waited until Cho was halfway across the courtyard before rounding on Estella. "You are so tactless!" he hissed. "Are you _trying_ to stop Cho from liking me?"

Estella snorted and rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Harry? Nothing can stop that bitch once she's got you in her sights," she ignored Harry's darkening look. "Trust me, okay, you don't want to involve yourself with the likes of Cho Chang. She's an attention-seeking drama queen."

"Are you saying that no girl would want to go out with me if I wasn't famous?" said Harry, hurt.

"I didn't say that, Harry," Estella sighed in exasperation. "Just Cho."

"Yeah, well, I don't see any other girl knocking down my door!" said Harry bitterly.

"Oh Harry, are you truly that dense?" she shook her head in amazement. "Has it ever occurred to you that girls… all the decent ones anyway… stay away from you because they are intimidated by your status?"

"But why would they be? You aren't! Hermione isn't!" said Harry.

"Harry, hello! I was raised by my uncle; and Hermione is a Muggleborn!" she said. "We didn't exactly grow up with heroic bedtime stories of 'the-boy-who-lived'!"

"Wait, I am not a bedtime story!" said Harry in mild resentment. "Other Muggleborns don't give me a chance!"

"There's a whole section of children's books on you in Flourish and Botts! Why'd you think your vault is so full?" Estella cocked a brow in challenge. Harry backed off. "As for the other Muggleborns, they can't get five minutes into the train journey without catching onto the hysteria that goes on whenever you pass a carriage! It was just happenstance that Hermione met you and reached her own opinion of you before having her impression addled by the reputation of your name."

Getting back to the main point, Harry frowned. "I can go out with Cho if I want to!" he said stubbornly.

"Oh, like you lusted over her before the Yule Ball only to watch her pick up with Diggory because everyone saw him as the 'rightful' Hogwarts Champion and being with him got her better attention?" scoffed Estella. She'd heard all about Cho's antics during her absence the previous year from her housemates. "I tell you, Harry, a girl that ambitious and shallow ought to have been placed in Slytherin!"

"I don't have to listen to this!" Harry scowled. "Just because we spend our summers together, it doesn't give you authority to tell me how to live my life!"

Staring dumbfounded at Harry's cool demeanour, Estella's face fell. Biting back the anger bubbling in her gut, she said nothing and spun on her heel, suddenly wishing to place as much space as possible between herself and the pigheaded Gryffindor. She doubted Harry had any idea just how much what he had just said had cut her to the bone. Was that all she and her father were to Harry? Someone he had to spend his summers with? Stalking her way down the dimly lit corridor, Estella headed off to the Ravenclaw common room in search of her friends. All the while she couldn't dismiss the nagging thought in the back of the mind that maybe she reacted so adversely to Cho's interest in Harry because she _was_ jealous.

'No,' she shook her head violently, trying to convince herself that it wasn't the case. 'He's as good as a _Brother_! Anything more is just _wrong_!'

…or was it?

* * *

Walking down to the first lesson of the day was a very surreal experience for Estella. Not only was her mind still reeling from the confrontation she'd had with Harry an hour earlier, but she and her classmates were about to attend a Potions lesson taught by someone other than her uncle.

The dungeon was, most unusually, already full of vapours and odd smells. Estella, Reg, John and Elsie sniffed interestedly as they passed large, bubbling cauldrons; Estella relieved when the fumes triggered no memories of Malfoy. Choosing a table closest to a gold-coloured cauldron that was emitting one of the most seductive scents Estella had ever inhaled tickled her senses. Somehow it reminded her simultaneously of chocolate, the musty smell of books and something masculine she thought she might have smelled on her father's dresser. She found that she was breathing very slowly and deeply and that the potion's fumes seemed to be filling her up like drink. A great contentment stole over her; she grinned across at her friends, who grinned lazily back.

'Amortentia!' she realised with a start. The love potion was one that her uncle had never practically taught her – for he did not approve of potions being put to such uses. She had, of course, read all about its effects.

The other two cauldrons, as much as Estella could tell, held equal quantities of Veritaserum, Polyjuice and Felix Felicis. In all her excitement, Estella had all but forgotten the memories certain potion smells stirred in her. She suspected that the spirals of steam coming from the Amortentia had something to do with it. Pulling out the standard fourth-year Potions' text, Estella found herself genuinely looking forward to the lesson.

"I cannot tell you how pleased I am to begin my appointment with this particular class!" Horace Slughorn's beady eyes glinted at Estella as he said this. "For those who do not know me," – his eyes regarded the rest of the class – "I should point out that I taught many of your parents. So, forgive me if I may confuse you for your mother or for your father… in this dim light, the likenesses can be quite striking. I never forget a brewer's style, however," – again he looked at Estella knowingly, his Slytherin mind surely getting great kicks out of the private little secret buried in his words – "Give me a week and I will have most certainly succeeded in separating you all from your parents before you."

The lesson continued in much the same fashion, with Estella's friends quick to make comparisons with the unbearable Professor Lockhart from first year. "He's only like this when he has an audience," whispered Estella as the elderly teacher began explaining the contents of each of the respective cauldrons. "Unlike Lockhart, however, he _is_ a master of his craft."

Another twenty minutes into the lesson, and Estella's friends were inclined to agree. All too soon, it seemed, they were bottling samples of their class work for grading and gathering their books together. The clock had announced the end of the lesson, but no one had left yet because the professor had yet to select the recipient of a sample of Felix Felicis; the luck potion he'd bottled as a reward for the student who brewed the best potion that class.

"The clear winner!" he cried to the dungeon as he laid eyes on Estella's cauldron. "Excellent, excellent, Estella! Good Lord, it's clear you've inherited your talent from your mother's side of the family. Dab hands at Potions, every single one of you! Here you are, then, here you are – one bottle of Felix Felicis, as promised, and use it well!"

Estella dismissed her initial suspicion of favouritism when she remembered how serious the man really did take his potions. As much as he may try to bolster his profile by associating with celebrated alumni; Estella knew that he'd never merit an inferior potion to win points. Accepting the tiny bottle of golden liquid with a short nod of acknowledgement, Estella thanked the Potions Master and was ready to leave just as he dismissed them.

A few minutes later, Estella and her classmates were congregated outside the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, waiting for their lesson to begin. The exasperated Ravenclaw had barely finished convincing her housemates that Slughorn was not playing favourites with her and that judging their potions fairly was the one thing they could count on the man for, when her uncle swept out into the corridor.

"Inside," he said.

Not allowing herself to think of how much of her statement the former Potions professor might have heard, Estella looked around as they entered. Her uncle had imposed his personality upon the room already; it was gloomier than usual as curtains had been drawn over the windows, and was lit by candlelight. New pictures adorned the walls, many of them showing people who appeared to be in pain, sporting grisly injuries or strangely contorted body parts. Nobody spoke as they settled down, looking around at the shadowy, gruesome pictures.

"I have not asked you to take out your books," said Snape, closing the door and moving to face the class from behind his desk. The entire Ravenclaw contingent of the class hastily dropped their copies of the assigned text back into their bags. "I wish to speak to you and I want your fullest attention."

Idly, Estella wondered if her uncle had composed a new speech to inflict upon the unsuspecting first-years. He could not very well open a Defence lesson with promises to teach them about brewing glory and putting a stopper in death. As though sensing that her attention was not on him, Severus' black eyes roved over the upturned faces of Estella's classmates, before lingering for a fraction longer on her own in warning.

"You have had three teachers in this subject so far, I believe." At this, Estella raised a brow – as if her uncle hadn't watched each teacher like a hawk after Quirrel's deception. "Naturally, these teachers will all have had their own methods and priorities. Given this confusion I am surprised how many of you are still alive. I shall be even more surprised if all of you manage to make it past O.W.L level on account of your poor foundation in this vital subject."

Snape set off around the edge of the room, speaking now in a lower voice; the class craned their necks to keep him in view. "However," he said, halting his penetrating gaze on a select few – Estella particularly – before going on. "_Some_ of us possess either the predisposition or added advantage or _private tuition_. Complacency will not be tolerated from those of you with skills vastly superior to your peers. No level of achievement is high enough in this field! From this perspective you _all_ have a lot of catching up to do!"

The lesson continued in much the same way, and after a brief practical introduction to defensive posture, the class was dismissed.

"Miss Black, stay behind," her uncle called her back without even looking up from his notes. Sensing that her uncle would likely wish to spend the entire lunch hour with her, she informed her friends that she'd see them next in Charms.

Waiting until they were alone in the classroom, Estella made her way over to her uncle's desk and set her bag down casually. Knowing better than to interrupt him as he completed making note of his observations, Estella allowed her eyes to drift to the disturbing images on the wall.

"Ohhh," she cooed sarcastically to herself as she began to pace the portrait-lined wall between the desks. "How _homely_…"

So caught up was she in her imaginative projection of what the typical Death Eater home must look like, that she'd not noticed the soft whisper of robes moving, nor caught the flickering shadow of movement that signalled attack. Before she could even react to her uncle's non-verbal disarming spell and turn around, Estella found herself sprawled on the floor under a full-body bind.

"You have not been practicing," her uncle stated in disapproval as he loomed over her, her wand in his hand.

A subtle wave of his other hand and Estella felt the spell lift. Her uncle handed her back her wand, handle first, before assisting her to her feet. Accepting the help, Estella pulled herself up and brushed off her robes, her eyes staring at her uncle in a mix of shock and indignation.

"I wasn't expecting to be ambushed in the classroom!" she defended herself righteously. "I held my own in class, didn't I?"

"Against your fellow class, perhaps," her uncle considered. "Your partner did not yield as soon as I would expect of you. Did you not listen to a thing I said at the beginning of the lesson? I will not tolerate complacency!"

"I was not being complacent!" said Estella, turning her nose up at her uncle. "I'm just a little rusty! It's not like I can practice over summer anymore!"

"Neither can your peers!" her uncle pointed out. "Did you not even drill on defensive manoeuvres? No wand play is required for that!"

"We couldn't very well do anything when we were all couped up at Grimmauld Place!"

"Foolish girl," her uncle hissed, pointing his wand at the open door, wordlessly causing it to swing on its hinges and slam shut. "Do not mention that place here! The walls have ears!"

Estella was inclined to point out that any random eavesdropper listening in on their conversation would only have cause to suspect the importance of Grimmauld Place by his reaction; but she didn't. Her uncle backed away from her slightly and began to pace, his hands firmly clasped behind his back, knuckles white as they gripped his wand.

"And what of your… _sojourn_ abroad?" he chose his words carefully. "Was it not the purpose of that location to provide you with adequate space to train?"

"Well, actually, the point was to go somewhere and get away from…" Estella was cut off by the fluid motion of her uncle turning on his axis and swooping down upon her.

"Do you think your enemy is going to care whether or not you were expecting their attack?" he hissed, gripping her by the shoulders firmly and leaning down into her face so that their eyes were level. "Do you think the Dark Lord will consider whether or not you have learned something in class before he curses you? What is there to be gained by spending your time indulging in childish pursuits when your foe will not make concessions to that end? If you have any hope of surviving the years ahead, Estella, you must prepare! I had hoped your father had more sense, but I see my initial concern was valid."

"Now wait here a minute!" Estella shrugged out of her uncle's grip and glared at him. "My father wouldn't do anything to endanger me! He just wanted to give Harry and me a chance to be kids!"

"By halving your chances of surviving to adulthood?" her uncle glowered a little before regaining his resolve. "Estella, it is regrettable that you've not had the opportunity to live your life as others before you. But my prerogative has always been to ensure you are equipped to overcome whatever dangers are thrown your way. Your father needs to understand that such preparation comes at a cost – there can be no balance! Your performance in class today and lack of awareness just now is testament to that!"

Estella blinked away the burning sensation in her eyes and stared at her uncle stubbornly. His dark eyes inches from her own, Estella was startled to recognise the emotions therein. Fear, panic, worry, fatigue, concern, determination, anger… _love_ – precious few could see past the barriers and into Severus Snape's soul, and for those that did, the power of emotion that hit you was overwhelming. Estella realised all at once that her uncle was not angry at her, he was _scared_. She realised with a start that, on some level, her father's ambivalence had rubbed off. For those who knew Sirius Black as the young up-starting Auror or rambunctious schoolboy, he was known for being self-assured and confident. To men of his calibre, a chance victory over an opponent set a precedent, assuring future successes.

While the father she knew was conversely unsure and doubtful of his abilities as a parent, Estella realised that his approach to her ability to handle herself in battle was a clouded one. He'd seen her escape death twice now, and so rather than address the possibility of fate dealing a different hand, Sirius chose to deny that his daughter was no more infinite in luck than she was ability. Though Estella readily accepted that this mindset was more than likely her father's way of assuring himself of her safety; her uncle's words contained an echo of truth. She _had_ become complacent.

"You are right," she admitted with no amount of chagrin. "I will try harder."

Severus nodded curtly at his niece in acknowledgement before stepping back and gesturing that she follow him into his private office. Whilst he then took to summoning the Floo Powder that would take them to his quarters in the dungeon; Estella noted that her godfather's former office had taken on a distinctly darker quality.

"Where'd you dig up all this creepy stuff?" Estella stared at a jar full of Basilisk eyes warily. Spotting a familiar dark amulet on the mantle as she made to use the Floo, her eyes widened. "Hey, what's _that_ doing here?"

His jaw twitching ever so slightly, Severus quickly regained control over his features and moved to stand between his niece and the item she was reaching for. Not missing a beat, he poured some Floo Powder into the outstretched hand before him and looked down upon the girl in consideration. "Certain items of… _value… _could not be destroyed," he explained, referring to the amulet he'd so carelessly left in view of the girl who'd recognise its origin. "Rather than risk such an artefact landing in unsavoury hands, I have demonstrably kept it for educational purposes."

Knowing from her uncle's tone that she wasn't going to get much more explanation than that, Estella gave the man a calculating look. When she had commissioned the man's help in purging Grimmauld Place of its evil holdings, she'd not really paid much thought as to what her uncle would do with that which could not be destroyed. She'd assumed that it would all be boxed up and sealed deep within the dungeon of some family estate somewhere. Dismissing her assumption with a shrug, Estella closed her hand around the fine powder and stepped around her uncle to face the fireplace once more. "Fair 'nuff," she quipped, looking back at her uncle and smirking at his visible cringe at her inarticulate delivery. Before he could reprimand her, however, Estella had thrown the Floo Powder into the hearth and stepped into the green flames. "Snape Quarters."

* * *

Charms followed her uneventful, private lunch with her uncle, but her mind was hardly on task – she was far too anxious about the final lesson of the day: her first session with Benson Ollerton. Estella was not the only participant visibly anticipating the session. As Dumbledore had informed her the night before, her Charms professor and Head of House, Professor Flitwick, had volunteered his time to collaborate on the venture. From his raised podium in front of the class, it was clear that he was having a difficult time containing his excitement.

"Who put fire ants in Flitwick's drawers?" John gestured towards said teacher, a puzzled expression on his face. "Even for a Ravenclaw, it's positively criminal for anyone to be that chipper on the first day of classes!"

"Actually, if I didn't know any better, I'd almost say he couldn't wait for class to finish," Reg followed their teacher's agitated pacing with his eyes. "He couldn't be more obvious if he charmed the clock to hover in his line of sight."

"Don't go giving him any ideas," Elsie cautioned him, shaking her head. Catching how Professor Flitwick's gaze seemed to favour Estella on each pass, she turned to the dark-haired girl next to her in realisation. "Hey, Estella, don't you have that special class thing next? Is _that_ why Professor Flitwick's so excited?" At Estella's hesitant nod, she gaped. "Merlin, wish we all could be in on it! I know you keep saying it's gonna be no picnic and all, but it must really be something to get him so jumped up!"

"Well, you know," Estella said casually. "I may need to call on some trusted classmates for assistance."

"Oh, would you?" three heads spun around to smile hopefully at Estella. Warmed by their conscientious enthusiasm towards learning and their unbridled support for her choice in extra curricular activities, Estella found that she was once again thankful of the Sorting Hat's choice. There'd be no way her friends would be so understanding and unquestioning had she been in Gryffindor. The Hufflepuffs would have considered her disloyal for embarking on something without them and the Slytherins would have likely tried to sabotage her for their own personal gains.

* * *

Mr Ollerton – _Benson_, as Estella had to keep reminding herself if she were to work so closely with him over coming months – was waiting for her in Professor Flitwick's office when she followed the short man into the room after class. By the look on the elderly wizard's face, the simple broom-maker was as excited as the affable Ravenclaw Head of House, but Estella just could not see what the fuss was all about.

'_Boys and their brooms…_' she inwardly rolled her eyes.

Though she knew she really ought to be paying attention to what the two men were explaining to her, Estella could not help but let her eyes wander to the undiscovered bounty that was her Charms teacher's office. Unlike the private offices the squat little man occupied in his capacity as Estella's Head of House; she'd never actually seen the interior of the Charms classroom's adjunct office. She'd never had reason to, for, as someone like Ron Weasley would say – with an unflattering scowl on his face, no less – she was a _swot_.

From what little of her companion's preambles she did absorb, the location of her _private office_ was accessible via a limited Floo connection in any of the Hogwarts head staff's offices. Not all together dissimilar to the Chamber of Secrets in its exclusivity, the 'Keep' as it was so coined, fell on no map and was inaccessible to all of whom the castle did not see fit to grant entry. Unsubstantiated speculation amongst Hogwarts historians suggested that the Keep was designed by Rowena Ravenclaw herself and had been used by the founder as a private retreat during her tenure.

'_The Grey Lady was right_!' Estella marvelled to herself as she made to follow her Head of House through the Floo. The Ravenclaw ghost had, in her omniscient after-life, frequently alluded to the existence of such a room… but over the centuries, the living had become somewhat immune to the suggestion. Ghosts, as everyone knew, had eternity on their hands, and so you just couldn't put it past one to amuse themselves by messing with the malleable minds of the living.

If Estella was expecting a neglected, barren, featureless room deep within the heart of Hogwarts, she was pleasantly surprised. Though the walls were, as expected, consistent with the exposed stone architecture of much of the castle, the room had a distinctly _modern_ feel to it. The vintage oak bookshelves that lined the walls, full of old leather-bound books may have leant to the rustic theme; but that was where the old world ended, and the new world began. Estella didn't know who, and she didn't know how, but she somehow knew that deep purple carpet was _not_ an original feature. Nor had she ever expected plush, brightly coloured furniture to form a part of the school's inventory. After ogling the fire-engine red swivel chair and marvelling at how it seemed to work with the citrus coloured ottomans and power-blue lounge; her eyes were unwaveringly drawn to the distinctive flash of chrome on the shelve beyond the large oak desk.

"A sound system!" she gaped reverently at the set up and gravitated towards the small library of compact discs she saw nearby. "_That's_ where my Led Zepplin got to!"

"Your godfather was of the mind that you would be most productive in a comfortable working environment," Benson explained. "He was quite adamant that we created a space that was least like a school. Your father, too, was instrumental in overseeing the House Elves' efforts."

"Figures," Estella scoffed, turning pensive as she recognised a throw from their vacation home. Hooking her fingers in the worn, coarse granny squares of the crocheted pattern, Estella could almost smell the sea spray again.

It made sense that her godfather and father would go to town in fitting out the room in such a way. How the Marauders would have gnawed off a limb to have their own private oasis like this. Taking in the room around her again, a small vice began to squeeze on her heart as she recognised little nuances abut the room that would actually have characterised a room of the Marauder's design. The colours, for instance, were all corresponding to the livery of several of her father's favoured Quidditch teams. Wall mounts for what Estella knew were practical as a storage spot for prototype brooms would also have taken pride of place in any room of James' conception, and no retreat for Remus would be complete without an easy chair and music.

"Are you quite all right, child?" Professor Flitwick waddled over to her in small steps and looked up at her in concern. Though Estella was hardly tall by anyone's measure, the dwarfed wizard barely cleared the fourth year's elbow.

Blinking away at the fierce burning in her eyes, Estella took a deep breath to steel herself. "No, but I will be," she said frankly, trying frantically not to think of how excitable the elder Potter would have been in her shoes and how his sorely missed companionship had brought a light to her father's eyes that she'd never seen in his adult form.

'_I'm doing this for you, Prongs_,' she told herself. _'So we can kick some slimy shit-eater ass and make sure that all those empty chairs around the table weren't in vain…'_ Her thoughts becoming more and more sinister and abstract in delivery, she couldn't help but picture a jumped-up, out of control broom, programmed to explode with Voldemort on it.

"That's it," she muttered to herself, smirking darkly. "No more Wile E. Coyote for me!"

"Pardon?" two clueless wizards regarded her with a puzzled expression, seemingly unable to keep up with the ever-changing emotions the girl was giving out.

"Never mind," she said, shaking her head and returning her attention to the stack of CDs on the shelf. "Oh _there's_ that CD!"

_

* * *

Despite the seemingly infinite supply of distractions, Estella quickly settled into her new workspace, enabling the threesome to get a few solid hours work in before dinner. The resources Benson had to offer, she was quick to realise, were crucial in helping her understand the magic she had been entrusted to act as a conduit for. Normally speaking, someone in Estella's position should not have been able to consciously access the borrowed magic of another. That she was able to at all probably had something to do with the magic being affected by her journey forward in time._

After several hours of being introduced to the Benson family's collection of notes and books on the subject of broom manufacturing, it was becoming increasingly apparent to Estella that there was a lot more to it than simply incanting a spell. If Professor Flitwick's theory were to prove correct, that she did not fully comprehend the magic she was using attributed to why the charms applied to Harry's Firebolt did not hold. It was equally important, as Benson demonstrated from the extensively detailed journals of his father that all charms ought to be customised at time of development. Brooms modified after the fact were notoriously unreliable when it came to delivering a consistent performance; which is why wizards either trade in their models or make do with what they have, seldom resorting to refurbishment.

In a number of ways, Estella could not really understand why Dumbledore couldn't find someone else to do what she was being asked to do. Between Professor Flitwick's keen mind helping her interpret the countless charms magically installed in her mind, and Benson providing specific support in terms of handling any transfigurations, it was almost as though she was learning to charm brooms from scratch. Where she supposed Dumbledore was coming from, however, was that she was at a greater advantage to any other candidate because she already knew a majority of the practical aspects. For a trusted individual to prescribe themselves to the regular Apprenticeship program and learn the spells normally would take too much time… time the Order did not have. Not that Estella was given the responsibility by default by any means. For, as Benson was soon to discover, the imaginative inventiveness of a resourceful child with Muggle inspiration was equal, if not better, than the innovativeness of the most seasoned developer.

"I know I've said it before, my dear," the aging businessman was relentless. "But there's a job for you with the company as soon as you graduate… sooner, even, if your father would allow it."

Estella was uncomfortable. The mere inference that she so much as think of ending her education early seeming unfathomable to her keen Ravenclaw mind. "With all due respects, sir," she said, slipping back to formalities as she endeavoured to let the man down lightly. "I would like to-"

"-keep your options open until you've graduated and have a more rounded idea of what's out there," Benson finished for her, all too familiar with her rebukes. "My Aries was the same. Good, solid, level head on her shoulders…"

The man's voice had dropped to a low whisper before dropping off completely; his mind awash with memories. Almost unnoticeable from his place buried behind a book much too large for his small frame, Professor Flitwick put down his reading to look upon the still-grieving father in sympathy. "Yes, yes, I remember," the oblivious professor announced, not actually aware of Estella's role in the past and the specifics of how she became affiliated with the Ollertons. "Remarkable student indeed."

Eyes wide, Benson shot Estella a covert look of surprise, the unbidden question not needing to leave his lips. '_Doesn't he know?'_

Estella shrugged. Whilst on one level it was crucial to the security of the Order to limit the number of outsiders privy to its activities, Estella couldn't very well see how she could work in such close quarters to her Head of House and _not_ be honest with him. It was with a sickening feeling in her stomach that she noted that, in being approached to assist her on her mission for the Order, Professor Flitwick had fallen hook, line and sinker for Dumbledore's manipulations. So swept up was the little man in his excitement about the opportunity to delve into a little-known branch of Charms, that he didn't question Estella's role in it all. As far as the proud Head of House was concerned, his notable fourth year had been singled out for a mentoring program in the hopes it would further develop areas in which she showed promise.

The question of disclosure, Estella knew, would have to be something she drew attention to at the next Order meeting. Benson, for example, had elected not to accept a nomination to join the Order's numbers, and yet he was counted as amongst one of Dumbledore's few confidantes. It seemed ridiculous – not to mention a manipulative, one-handed power play – for the majority of Hogwarts staff to remain in the dark about the Order's reformation. Then again, with Ministry trolls such as Dolores Umbridge underfoot, and the propensity for some of the more trusting alumni to gossip in the staff room, perhaps there was some merit in keeping things so quiet. With such a strong grounding in Ravenclaw ethics, however, Estella found it hard to reconcile her Head of House as being among the sort who'd not be able to use his judgement wisely.

Estella was still mulling over this; specifically trying to pinpoint why Dumbledore simply hadn't told the man already, when she joined her housemates for dinner. So caught up in her musings was she, that she all but completely overlooked the narrow stares a number of her classmates were giving her. The jibes from her friends about being teacher's pet in Potions was light and without malice, but it appeared that some members of her class from other houses took offence at the amount of 'extra' attention the likes of Slughorn and, most recently, Flitwick were paying her. One girl in particular – her former charms partner, Vicky Frobisher – seemed to have an unidentifiable bee in her bonnet about something. She, along with two of her Gyffindor housemates, Kendra and Pheobe, seemed to be waging some sort of vendetta against Estella ever since that morning.

"Forget about them, 'Stell, they aren't worth it," John nudged Estella's attention away from where she had unconsciously been staring across at the three Gryffindors, watching how they chewed the ear off an uncomfortable looking Ginny. "Frobisher's just jealous 'cause she wasn't asked to head the Charms Club and you turned the offer down."

"Do you think I should have accepted?" Estella worried her lower lip between her teeth and looked at the boy, no, young man, next to her in a silent plea for help. "I mean, I can see how Vicky's got her nose out of joint; but at the same time she just can't appreciate what I have on my plate this year."

"Well face it, she's a Gryffindor, and an inbred pureblood one at that," Reg leaned over his plate and smirked at his housemates, his eyes glinting in mirth. "They aren't exactly known for being rational."

"Besides, I don't know what'd gotten her knickers more twisted… the fact you turned down something she wanted and _still_ didn't get, or the fact that everyone knows you have a special class with Flitwick, and it's more than she can ever hope to do," Elsie pointed out.

"Who'd have thought a mutual appreciation for a subject could drive us apart like that," Estella furrowed her brow in concern. Though she was never particularly close with those outside of her house (or in fact most of the people _in_ her house) she had always valued Victoria's collaboration as a Charms partner. However, with the mix of teenaged hormones and sheer number of things she had going on in her life at the moment, Estella didn't think she could be bothered trying to figure the fickle Gryffindor out. Whilst Ravenclaws worked together to increase their knowledge, Gryffindors had a strange sense of competitiveness that Estella could not quite comprehend. In the wake of so much danger, death and destruction, there were slightly bigger things to worry about.

"I hear Professor Slughorn dished out bottles of Felix Felicis to the best brewer in each class," Reg said, changing the subject and nodding to tell-tale bottles were glinting against the candlelight as the lucky student shared their coop with their peers. "Look, even Potter's got one!"

Estella's mouth fell open in surprise. Surely Slughorn had not resorted to hollow favouritism! As soon as she thought that, Estella felt immediately guilty for not even stopping to consider if Harry had actually performed well enough to warrant reward. No matter how curious she was, however, she knew that she couldn't very well ask Harry himself without probably offending him with her doubts. The fact that they did not part in the best of ways that morning kept her at bay too… perhaps they needed a break from each other after having just spent an entire summer in close quarters.

Suddenly not feeling as though she could stomach her dessert of vanilla ice cream with choc mint fudge, Estella pushed her bowl aside and excused herself from the Ravenclaw table. Without a teacher to open the available Floo for her, she could not retreat to her special Keep, but that suited her fine since the time spent with the Headmaster the night before had not left her with much opportunity to get settled.

Out of almost unconscious habit, Estella swept past the Slytherin table on her way out, Draco's lightning fast reflexes catching her by the wrist and stopping her in her tracks.

"How was your day?" Draco asked tonelessly, the cool level intensity of his eyes telling Estella all she needed to know.

'_He wants to know why I didn't go to Ancient Runes_,' she acknowledged to herself. She did not question the blonde Slytherin's innate ability to keep track of her movements. Ancient Runes, as an elective, was attended by all the enrolled fourth years. One of the Slytherins had undoubtedly alerted Draco of her absence and though her extra classes for 'Charms' were not readily concealed, the details therein were not widely disclosed. Clearing her throat, Estella let her eyes travel meaningfully from the blonde before her and the bespectacled Gryffindor in the distance. "Am I right in hearing that _Harry_ won the luck potion in your class?"

Draco scowled unbecomingly and tightened his grip on his spoon. "He got lucky with his potion… almost _too_ lucky, if you catch my meaning!"

"You think he drank some Felix without anyone seeing?" Estella raised a brow. "As much as you can't believe that even Harry can get results in potions, I hate to tell you this, but Professor Slughorn always seals his cauldrons against thievery."

"You would know, I suppose," said Draco, looking slightly put out at not being quite knowledgeable when it came to the enigma before him.

"Yes, well, it was _pleasant_ chatting with you, Dray, but I did leave the table early for a reason," said Estella, pulling away from the Slytherin's sticky fingers.

"My apologies," said Draco, smiling suavely. "Far be it for me to keep a Raven from her books!"

"Good night, Draco," Estella shook her head at the boy's transparent antics and left the Great Hall without a backwards glance. Had she turned back to look at the Head Table, she would have noticed a pair of black eyes following her every move. Likewise, at the Gryffindor table, a green-eyed upperclassman looked about ready to murder the blonde in her wake. Even though she hadn't physically witnessed it, Estella knew enough to expect that kind of reaction. Had she been so inclined, she probably could have done something to address the situation; but as it was, she had a report to prepare.

Her first Order meeting was less than a week away.

End Chapter

Next Chapter: First Meetings, in which Estella attends her first Order meeting, Sirius and Estella get up to mischief at the Ministry, and Estella conquers a fear for a friend...

Due: on a weekend, two to three weeks from now, I really can't be too sure.

A/N: The review replies for Chapter 11 Reviews are typed up, but can't be sent out until later tonight/ sometime tomorrow as the person whose computer I am using just got home and needs his computer back (spoil sport).


	13. First Meetings

**Disclaimer:** Anything recognisable belongs to JK. I can't even claim commission on the ink some of you use printing this all out… (LOL) 

**Updated**: Wednesday 15th March 2006

Beta'd by (as always) 3-Legged Dog

**Chapter 13: First Meetings… **

Order meetings were held once a week, with any interim reports being made directly to the Headmaster. As planned, Harry and Estella were alternating their attendance, with Estella nominated to go first because she'd have more to report.

"It will take Harry some time to build a rapport." Dumbledore had told her earlier that week. Personally, Estella couldn't understand why Harry would have a better chance of accessing Horace Slughorn's secret memory than she. Then again, maybe it was tactically advantageous to have someone unfamiliar to the man to penetrate his defences. Though she'd known the Potions Master for much longer, that advantage, she realised, worked both ways. There was little doubt that the former Slytherin would recognise her overtures and push her away, whereas Harry stood a much better chance of catching him unaware. Knowing too how the eccentric professor gravitated towards gifted and influential students, Estella could only conclude that perhaps Harry was the wisest choice.

In the meantime, Estella had her own responsibilities to worry about. Giving a report to a body of adults was more daunting and involved than she could ever have anticipated. Though she had the assistance of Benson and, to a lesser extent, her Charms professor, as the only Order member involved in the project, she alone was held accountable for its progress. Questions she had not counted on having to answer were thrown at her from every direction, and her inability to address them satisfactorily made her feel like an amateur. The slightly disproving looks of the older members bore down on her, the silent implication that her age was beginning to show, not needing to be spoken.

If Estella thought she couldn't feel any worse, she was sadly mistaken. The casual revelation that Harry had been chosen to captain the Gryffindor Quidditch team, the remark thrown to her in passing as though she ought to have already known, ate at her. That her father was then too wrapped up in his pride and admiration for the absent boy to so much as cast her a reassuring look, made her feel like absolute mud. With Remus deep undercover and out of contact, only her uncle's eyes caught hers from across the kitchen table. Estella could not find what she was looking for in the man's penetrating gaze, however, because her uncle's inherent dislike for Harry clouded his perception.

No one, then, at the table, could understand the sense of drowning Estella felt at that moment. Normally, when she'd fallen short of the mark – such as with her Transfiguration performance, for instance – someone would always be there to reassure her and get her back on task. Sinking even lower in her chair, Estella realised that no such pampering would be deployed at Order level. These were adults, and their egos weren't in need of development.

Tuning out of the meeting, Estella shifted restlessly in her chair. When she found herself missing the presence of the one person who'd understand how out of her depth she was feeling, she had to stop herself. Harry had more or less ignored her ever since that morning she'd had the confrontation with Cho. He hadn't even shared with her the news of his captaincy… Estella began to doubt if Harry would actually sympathise with her now.

'_Maybe after he's had to endure a meeting like this on his own…_' Estella left the thought to hang and returned her attentions to tracing patterns on the blemished wall opposite her. '_Or maybe it will just be better for him because **he's** the Boy-Who-Lived and gets **special **treatment!_'

She scowled.

"Estella?" her father's voice shook her from her thoughts and she blinked up at him, confused.

Around them, Order members were activating Portkeys and going their separate ways. The meeting had adjourned, and Estella had not even been aware. The weary girl sighed and slumped in her chair, inwardly ticking her inattention off as yet another sign of her inadequacy.

"The meeting's over." her father pointed out, situating himself on Remus' empty chair and placing a steadying hand on his daughter's shoulder in concern. "Where were you?"

"Oh," Estella shrugged, gathering up the notes in front of her. "I was just revising some notes in my head. There's a few things I'll need to go over with Benson on Monday. How am I getting back to the school?"

Sirius regarded his daughter for a moment, and, checking to make sure no one was paying attention to them, he leant in close. "You really weren't with us, were you? Are you all right?" sighing when his daughter's face merely stared at him blankly, her features not giving anything away, he explained. "Tonks volunteered to pose as you for the weekend, so you can stay here if you want."

"I didn't bring my homework." Estella blurted, slightly put out by the unexpected news. "And I promised Jo… a _friend_, that I would, er…. _help_ them with something on Sunday."

Estella was referring to her promise to help John secretly train for the Quidditch tryouts. It wasn't so much that she couldn't tell her father that, but she just didn't want him to start running off with grand ideas of his daughter dating or showing a real interest in Quidditch. She'd come to learn that once her father got an idea into his head, it was nearly impossible to get him to back down.

The man in question looked at her suspiciously, his brows raised. Dismissing his unasked question, he instead stood wordlessly and held out his hand to help Estella up.

"Tonks will leave your book bag and Kneazle with Dumbledore before breakfast." Sirius explained.

"Do I even get a say in this?" Estella frowned, wondering how long this plan had been in the works without her knowledge.

"I thought you would be happy. It's just you and me, kiddo." Sirius mirrored his daughter's facial expression. "You can go back early if you want, of course, but don't you at least want to spend some time with your lonely old man?"

"I was never allowed to visit with Moony during the term," Estella pointed out. "Are you sure Tonks can pull me off convincingly? My friends don't even know an Order exists."

"Our cousin may look a bit daft sometimes, but she's actually pretty good at keeping a low profile," said Sirius. "Dumbledore doesn't send her on reconnaissance missions simply because she knows how to change her face, you know."

"You're right, I suppose," Estella sighed.

"You're still not happy." Sirius frowned. "Don't you want to be with me?"

"No, it's not that!" Estella smiled weakly. "It's just… I don't know… it's unsettling to have these things sprung on me, is all."

"Well, so long as you want to be here-" Sirius chanced a look down at his daughter, continuing when he saw her slight nod of assurance. "-then how's about we go to the Ministry tomorrow and register that Kneazle of yours?"

"I can't believe we _forgot_!" Estella shook her head slightly. "With a Ministry troll loose at the school, it's a damn lucky thing that Skunk never leaves the Ravenclaw Tower." she paused. "Uh, Dad… how are we going to go to the Ministry tomorrow? With Tonks pretending to be me, I'll be in two places at once, and aren't you supposed to stay either here or in the Muggle world?"

"One," Sirius smirked down at his daughter. "Since when do I follow the rules?" he smiled mischievously. "Two, who said anyone will _recognise_ us?"

**

* * *

With the assistance of a few aptly placed charms and a few of the Weasley twins' products, Estella was almost unrecognisable the next day after breakfast.**

"Perfect," Sirius stood back to admire his handiwork, having taken great joy in magically rendering his daughter's hair into its present state. He'd not yet forgotten the prank she'd played on him that had almost destroyed his own locks, and a Marauder _always_ gets his back. "If anyone didn't know any better, they'd think you were Tonks."

"Merlin knows why she would actually morph her hair to look like this by _choice_!" Estella grimaced at her reflection, though she was inwardly happy with the magenta shade the Weasley confection had changed her eyes to. With her Metamorphagus cousin changing her appearance so frequently no one even knew her true appearance, Estella knew that her disguise would more than suffice in hiding her identity. "I do wish you'd disguise yourself though! Dumbledore…"

"Since when do _you_ leap to do everything that man tells you?" Sirius argued with her, not for the first time that day.

'_Since he has good reason in this case!_' Estella had wanted to scream at the man. If the Ministry did not require visitors to check in their wands at the security desk, she'd have flat out refused to step out into the wizarding world with her father's identity so recognisable. Brushing off Sirius' incredulous question, she backed down huffily and made a show of looking for her Kneazle. Since the wards had been suitably amended to provide extra security, the pair had left Grimmauld Place shortly after the Order meeting and gone home. Having never been in the house before, Skunk had taken to exploring, and was not easily found.

**

* * *

**

Imitating Tonks was proving to be relatively easy. All Estella had to do when a passing witch or wizard's gaze lingered their way was trip and fall over, and all question of her identity were answered. The father and daughter pair had just come out of the registry office for Magical Creatures and were on their way back out when disaster struck. Too preoccupied with sympathising with her Familiar, who was entirely unhappy with being carted around in a small cage by Sirius, Estella rounded the corner distractedly and, not noticing where she was going, ploughed directly into someone's path.

Sprawled out on the floor, winded slightly by the impact, Estella looked down in embarrassment. A humbled apology was just about to leave her lips when a voice chilled her to the bone, causing her to snap her head up and look at the man she'd careened into for the first time.

"Black." the silvery-haired man leered malevolently, a look of smug satisfaction on his face.

One step behind her, Estella heard her father drop Skunk's carrier in shock. The tension in the air made the hairs on her neck stand on end. No sooner had her father pulled her up and behind him, the disorientated teen grabbing hold of her Kneazle's carrier and clinging to it as though for dear life in the process, had the livid Animagus rounded on the two-faced Slytherin before them.

"Having a little difficulty controlling your pets, are we, Sirius?" Lucius smirked at the slightly younger man. "However do you expect to care for _children_, may I ask?"

Temper barely in check, Sirius tightened his grip on Estella's robe, pushing her further behind him. So far, the finely attired wizard had shown no sign of having recognised Estella. With neither wizard permitted to carry a wand within the corridors of the Ministry's administrative offices, they were at no immediate risk, but Sirius couldn't help the natural instinct to put himself between his child and the man who had very nearly killed her. His mind plagued by the memories he'd seen in Dumbledore's Pensieve an impossibly short three months earlier, Sirius Black saw red.

"You _bastard,_" he swore, pushing Estella away from him as he drew back his fist and, without warning, landed a powerful right hook across the haughty blonde's face.

Much to Estella's chagrin, the blow was not enough to fell the evil wizard before her. That said, she drew silent satisfaction from watching the man's head snap back violently, the sickening crunch of fist on flesh echoing off the corridor walls. When she noticed that her father was hardly about to stop at that, she leapt forward in alarm.

"Dad! No!" she cried out, pulling the man back as he made to take another swipe at the wizard who, for some reason, was making no effort to defend himself.

No sooner had she called out to her father, did Estella feel Lucius' shark-like eyes on her, his smile looking even more disarming with the blood spilling from his mouth.

"Why, good morning, _Estella_," Lucius looked positively victorious. "Isn't this interesting?"

"How dare you address my daughter!" Sirius spat, all too ready to wrap his hands around the grinning wizard's neck if not for Estella's firm grasp on his robes. "Stay away from her!"

"It's such a shame to see years of Severus' hard work going to waste," Lucius shook his head mockingly. "Really, Sirius, whatever possessed you to permit your heir to dress so unseemly? Why, I almost didn't recognise the girl!"

"That was the point you barmy git!" Estella scowled at the man who haunted her dreams, emboldened by her father's presence. "Or are you completely daft?"

"Ah, charming. It's so rewarding to see that my wife's _concerns_ are not completely unfounded." Lucius' grin was becoming increasingly smug. "No, child, I cannot blame you for your cheek. Teenagers are so notoriously impressionable at your age… which is why we have a dedicated department at the Ministry to ensure that our society's young do not fall prey to undesirable influences."

Sensing the implied threat, Sirius broke free of his daughter's grasp and threw himself at the pliant Malfoy, easily pinning the docile wizard to the wall.

"If I had my wand, Malfoy, I swear to Merlin…" Sirius scowled, so blinded by his anger he was unable to express his ire.

"Keep going, Sirius." Lucius encouraged him. "Make things easier for me, by all means."

Knowing she didn't have the ability to pull apart two fully grown wizards, and reluctant to go anywhere near Malfoy, lest he Portkey them all away, Estella looked around hopelessly. Her eyes catching a sign pointing in the direction from which Malfoy had come from, Estella blanched.

'Department of Family Services' it read.

Inhaling sharply, the shaken teenager pulled at her father with inhuman strength. Pulling him away from the Dark Lord's number one follower, Estella acted without thinking. Grabbing fistfuls of finely tailored robes, she pulled the man towards her and, in the same moment, kneed him in the groin with all her might. Holding the shocked wizard up by his robes as his legs began to buckle, she sneered at her former tormentor.

"No one… _no one_… threatens my family!" she hissed in his face before letting him fall to the ground.

Taking a step back, she relished in the sight of the fallen wizard at her feet before turning to leave. Anger filling her again, however, she spun back around and landed a full-bodied kick in the man's side. Knowing full too well that Malfoy covered his tracks much too efficiently to ever get caught frustrated her, and the very real risk that he could succeed in whatever he was currently planning made her want to keep on kicking him until he was no more.

Having spotted the same sign on the wall and noticing his daughter's tenuous grip on her control, Sirius sobered responsibly and pulled her back.

"Let's go before anyone finds us here," he whispered hoarsely in her ear, not stopping to look back at the fallen wizard as he pulled Estella along hurriedly. The fear of losing his daughter was very real, and he suddenly felt spectacularly vulnerable without his wand.

**

* * *

**

"What are we going to do?" Estella was in a full-blown panic by the time they had Apparated back to the place her parents had made a home. Their exit from the bowels of the Ministry had left them both shaking with adrenalin. Several times as they had made their way back out through security, intent on collecting their wands and escaping to the Apparation point, they had thought they were done for. Physical assault of a unprotected wizard was a serious offence, and in the very least, they would have been detained for questioning. It was imperative that they got out of there before the alarm could be raised.

"Pack." Sirius said simply, the knuckles of his hand white as he clutched his wand, ready for anything. "We'll go back to the _summer_ house, where no one can find us."

"But what about Harry?" Estella asked quietly.

"Moony or Tonks can bring him along when it's safe," the fraught Animagus said after a moment's thought. Rounding on his daughter in consideration, he rested his hands on her trembling shoulders. "Right now my priority is getting us both out of the country."

No sooner had Sirius pulled the shaken girl into an embrace were the pair interrupted by a voice behind them.

"Are you entirely sure that's wise?" Dumbledore emerged from the study, where he had just travelled through the secure Floo connection in anticipation of their flight. "What of Estella's education?"

"I can teach her all she needs to know," pledged Sirius, though Estella was looking hesitant. The idea of leaving her friends when she'd only really just started to get close to them was something she didn't particularly care to consider.

"If you leave London, it will be impossible for the Order to assist you." Dumbledore warned. "The Ministry will keep an even closer eye on young Harry…"

"Are you asking me to choose?" Sirius said brokenly. "If she goes back to school the Ministry will take her away from me… Malfoy will make sure of it! I don't know what he's got on me, but it must be good if you're here now."

"I must confess that things are not looking good." the old wizard looked tired. "Your altercation with Mr Malfoy has just been made a matter of public record, and apparently Mrs Malfoy and several other individuals have sworn that they witnessed you physically accost your daughter in Diagon Alley last week. I've just met with Dolores Umbridge, who, as Ministry representative at the school, informed me of the recent developments."

"That cow!" Estella spat, unable to stop herself. "All right then, I'll go… I'll go tell the toad-faced wench how stupid-"

"I'm afraid it's not as easy as that, Estella," Albus' tone was grave as he looked from father to daughter sadly. "The physical proof of Lucius Malfoy's injuries is quite damning, and there now exists a warrant for your father's arrest. Pending resolution, it is procedure to remove all minors from his care."

"So is that it, Albus? Are you here to take my daughter away from me?" Sirius asked, hurt.

"Of course not, Sirius!" Albus blinked, uncharacteristically surprised by the younger wizard's conclusion. "I am doing everything in my power to rectify this situation. Keeping Estella from the school will only ascribe to your guilt."

"What about Tonks?" Sirius asked desperately. "Surely she can pull it off!"

"After the incident with Alastor last year, the Ministry have implemented new procedures to their investigative processes. Someone will undoubtedly wish to get a statement from Estella, and Nymphadora will not fool them in that setting. I am afraid too, that your young cousin needs to return to her other assignments." Albus informed them. "I assure you, both of you, that no matter the Ministry's ruling, nothing need change. Legally, the children must remain in school. I am certain that we'll have reached a resolution by the holidays."

"So what am I supposed to do, Albus? Turn myself in?" Sirius scowled.

"By all means, no!" Albus said firmly. "So long as Lucius Malfoy walks freely, the Ministry is compromised. It is imperative that you do not leave Headquarters under any circumstances. I cannot guarantee your safety if you are taken into custody."

"So I am a fugitive again?" Sirius sat down heavily on a chair, pulling his daughter down with him. Estella could not blame the man for not wanting to relinquish his stabilising hold on her hand. "I'm no coward, Albus. I will not hide and save my own skin while my kids are taken away."

"No one will take the children from you!" Albus was blunt. "They will return to Headquarters for Christmas as was planned. You must stay there in the interim until I can guarantee a hearing for you under _controlled_ circumstances."

"There are people in the Department for Family Services that you trust, Albus?" A glimmer of hope was evident in his tone. The promise of still seeing his children was comforting, yes, but he didn't want to lose the legal right to raise them. He remembered what it had been like having custody of his own daughter when he had been a fugitive. At any time, Severus or Dumbledore could have come to take her away from him, and he would have been powerless to stop it. Now, two teenagers were at stake, and having experienced the freedom of being able to make decisions without interference he knew he couldn't go back to that. Estella was his daughter, and James had trusted him to raise Harry; and he would be damned if he would be forced to do that from the shadows. Not again.

"Yes, but I will need time to pull something together." Albus informed them. "So please, Sirius, give me that time."

Sirius stared at the aged leader thoughtfully, not missing the unspoken request for his trust. Feeling his daughter's small hand squeeze his in encouragement, he made his decision.

"All right," he said. "I'm trusting you to get me a fair hearing."

A moment of silence swept over them, before Sirius spoke again.

"Do I _have_ to stay at my mother's?" he asked quietly. "Can't I stay here?"

"Though I must admire the work you've done on the wards, Sirius, it's likely that this house is already under surveillance." said Albus.

"But I just finished the unplottable charms! Copied them right from the notes my father used on Grimmauld Place!" Sirius was adamant that his matrimonial home was safe. "And you know Remus is our secret keeper."

Sirius was clearly not about to make the same mistake James and Lily had made by not letting Dumbledore know of his choice.

"No one will find…"

"Very well." the Headmaster cut in, displaying an unprecedented sign of cooperation. "I trust the Floo is limited?"

"Grimmauld and your office only." Sirius confirmed, smiling slightly at the opportunity of staying in his home. "It's as impenetrable as Grimmauld, even more so with Moony undercover."

"Are there emergency Portkeys on hand?" Albus asked. Ever since James and Lily, he too favoured extra precautions. He now recommended that a 'secure' safe house have readily accessible Portkeys in each room, all charmed by him to go to a select number of safe locations.

"I have the one… the one we used to go on holiday," said Sirius cryptically, still not willing to divulge the location of their holiday spot. "Then I have the Portkey I'd given to Selina to get to my parents' place, and the one she gave me still works, but I'm not sure where that will go now…"

"Mum's room," said Estella. "Moony only temporarily redirected it."

"Well that's settled then," Albus said congenially. "Estella, if you would be so kind as to rustle this old man up with a spot of tea, your father and I will see to situating more Portkeys around the house."

In the end, there were no less than three Portkeys in every room of the house. Borrowing from the tendency to use objects of Muggle origin for the purpose, the assortment of broken CD cases, Muggle magazines and household utensils hardly looked out of place in the hybrid home.

"I'm going to have a hard time remembering what's a Portkey and what's not," Sirius groaned. "No moving them around, ok kiddo?"

"Like I would do that!" Estella scoffed indignantly. As if she would consider fooling around with something that could quite possibly save their lives in an attack. Flopping down on the couch after the Headmaster had returned to the school – Estella was due to follow the next day – the young girl let her contentment show. "I'm glad you're getting to stay here, Dad."

"Me too," said Sirius, collapsing in a heap next to his daughter. "You want to watch a film?"

**

* * *

Shortly after breakfast the next day, Estella Flooed back to the Headmaster's office. After swapping details with her decoy, Tonks, she politely declined the Headmaster's invitation of tea and set out to find her friends.**

"Hey stranger," Estella snuck up on her housemate, who was waiting nervously at their prearranged meeting spot behind the Greenhouses. "Y'know, people are going to get the wrong idea, the two off us sneaking off _here_ together."

The small courtyard behind the Greenhouses was notorious for being a quiet place for young couples to go and snog. Since most people favoured the late afternoon shadows or the blanketing security of night, the area was largely left alone during the day. With its steep slopes receding the ground level well below the dungeon walls, it would be the perfect place to fly relatively unseen.

"You sure you want to do this?" John shifted his weight nervously as he pulled out his shrunken broom. "You… you don't have to if you don't want to."

"You still want to try out, don't you?" Estella levelled her eyes at the boy, feelingly only slightly awkward in his lone presence. Despite all of her bookish knowledge, the young girl was notoriously naïve when it came to the opposite sex. "I don't really mind flying that much when I am with people I trust."

"You trust me, then?" John asked, genuinely surprised. It was an established fact that the niece of the Slytherin Head of House was not one to give her trust easily.

"With this I do." Estella responded diplomatically, resizing her own broom and mounting it without hesitation. "Did you bring a Quaffle?"

"Oh!" John fumbled through his pockets and pulled out a small ball, which he resized. "Almost forgot. Baz'll kill me if he finds out I took it from his set… but he's away training until Christmas, so I figure I'll be safe."

"Why, didn't you want your family to know you were trying out?" Estella kicked off slightly and hovered a few feet off the ground, level with her classmate, who had done the same.

John Ryan was the younger brother of Barry Ryan, a successful professional Quidditch player for the Irish National Team. To date, he'd only ever displayed a casual interest in flying while at school, but now the House Team had lost its Keeper, he had resolved to try out for the position.

"I don't want to get my parents all excited, only to not make the team. You know that!" John sighed, hefting the worn Quaffle from hand to hand. "I'll never live it down! I've always paled in comparison to Barry…"

"Only because he's got years on you and has trained religiously since he started playing Quidditch!" Estella pointed out. "You've never played at school before and so you're at a disadvantage. From what you've told me though, you manage to hold your own when he tosses a Quaffle with you over summer, right? That's got to mean you're at least better than average."

"Well, we'll see, shall we?" John said dejectedly, flying to the far side of the courtyard where the ground level was lower, and tracing a goal ring into the air. The purple trail hovered, suspended by magic.

"Brilliant!" Estella commended her friend on his handiwork as she flew over to inspect the makeshift goal. "Right, now give's the Quaffle."

"Are you sure you're going to be all right trying to get them past me?" John furrowed his brow as Estella wobbled slightly on her broom as she adjusted herself to accommodate the ball. "You hardly fly, let alone play Quidditch. Have you even-"

"Trust me, all right? I know what I am doing." Estella fumbled with the Quaffle and almost dropped it when a gust of wind caused her broom to sway. Correcting her position, she sheepishly added, "somewhat…"

"Uh, if you say so," said John, tucking his wand away and pulling out his Keeper Gloves. "Come at me from all directions, kay? I can't thank you enough for helping me with this."

"S'ok," Estella shrugged, tossing the Quaffle in the air experimentally and then catching it awkwardly. Though one of their best friends was presently reserve Chaser for the House Team, Estella could understand why John had not wanted to ask for his help. "I'm just going to circle the courtyard a bit to get used to flying with this thing, all right? Be on your guard."

Much to Estella's amusement, she was able to get three shots past the Ravenclaw before he came to his senses and began to block her shots with earnest. Just as she had thought, her modest housemate wasn't just modest about his ability, he was downright subjective.

"You know, I know I'm nothing like a proper Chaser," Estella flew up to her friend and rested a while to catch her breath. "But you're doing a brilliant job."

"You're not so bad yourself!" John blurted, his cheeks flaming red in embarrassment as Estella raised her brow. Fumbling for his words, John's hands gripped compulsively around the Quaffle he was holding. "I mean, you should try out too. You and Reg will be good together… um, I mean…"

"You're a ham, John Ryan." Estella smirked at the stammering fourth year in front of her, only slightly confused as to why he'd been so awkward around her lately. "I'm not trying out though. You saw how many bloody times I dropped the Quaffle."

"You… you dropped the Quaffle?" John looked down at the ball in his hands as though it would provide him with all the answers.

"Really, John, you call yourself a Keeper? Don't you pay attention to anything?" Estella shook her head in amusement.

"I do! I pay attention to you!" As soon as John had said it, his face took on the look of one who had just bitten into a pickled egg.

Estella was just about to put the poor guy out of his misery when a voice shouted at them from the side of the Greenhouse. They had been spotted.

"Hey! Estella! What are you doing around here?" Harry had spotted the girl he was looking for and was waving at her from the rise on the opposite side of the courtyard.

"Oh, don't look now," Estella leaned her broom closer to John's and looked to him conspiringly. "It's the _Captain_ of the opposition."

"Better not let him see this, then." John smirked and shrunk his brother's Quaffle, returning it to a pocket in his robes before removing the fading purple ring in the air completely.

"What do you want, Harry?" Estella flew over to the Gryffindor and hovered so that she was level with the boy standing on the higher ground a few feet ahead of her. The fact Harry had not seen cause to make time to tell her about his appointment as Quidditch Captain still stung ever-so-slightly.

"You're back, then." Harry sounded almost hurt.

Estella chanced a look back at John who, though still out of earshot, was heading their way.

"What do you mean? I didn't go anywhere!" Estella said incredulously, gesturing wordlessly that other ears could be listening from the nearby Greenhouse. "What brings you out here this fine Sunday morning?"

"Morning?" Harry looked up at her, frowning slightly. "It's afternoon! You missed lunch! Where have you been?"

It was then that Estella noticed the Marauder's Map in Harry's hand. With Estella in possession of the mirrors their fathers had used to communicate with each other, it was only fair that the older boy kept possession of the heirloom the twins had passed on to him in his third year.

"Around," Estella responded flippantly, deliberately vague as John was now hovering alongside her. If she didn't know any better, she'd have thought that her fellow housemate was being almost possessive.

"Oh, hi, John, is it?" Harry acknowledged John for the first time, who nodded back at him in confirmation. "Do you mind giving Estella and I a moment in private?"

John looked from Harry to Estella, disappointment flickering upon his features as Estella nodded slightly. Shrugging, the dejected Ravenclaw landed and dismounted his broom, muttering something about heading to the Great Hall for something to eat before stalking off in the direction of the main entrance.

"Did you have to be so blunt?" Estella hissed, landing near the Greenhouse wall and shrinking her broom with short, stabbing motions. "The poor guy's already a wreck. He doesn't need you adding to it."

"What do you mean?" Harry walked over towards her, a thoughtful look on his face as he took in their location and what it was known for. "Wait, he… he fancies you, doesn't he?"

"That's none of your business!" Estella shrieked at him. If he couldn't take her comments about Cho, then he had no right sticking his nose into that area of her life.

"Just what were you two doing here, behind the Greenhouses?" Harry narrowed his eyes at her. "You hate flying."

"I don't _hate_ flying!" Estella corrected him tersely. "I just don't _like_ making a spectacle of it. Not all of us are attention-seeking Gryffindors, you know!"

"Why was Tonks posing as you all weekend? The meeting ended by 7 on Friday," Harry asked suddenly, having pulled her towards him and whispered directly into her ear.

"Are you deranged, or just plain stupid?" Estella hissed back, quickly casting a privacy bubble before continuing. "Do you want to announce what we're doing to the world?"

"Relax, Estella, you're being paranoid! There's no one near here! I checked the Map moments ago." Harry brandished said parchment and waved it in front of her. "Now, you want to tell me what's going on?"

"If it had anything to do with the Order, you'd have heard about it!" Estella snapped back, the stress of the past 24 hours getting to her. Deep down she knew it wasn't fair to be lashing out at Harry, but she was still mad at him for not respecting her opinion of Cho that she wasn't thinking straight.

"What's with you lately?" Harry shot back. "Ever since term began you've been criticising my choice of friends and acting strange. Since when do you go off to a remote part of the grounds and not tell anyone where you are? If John's your boyfriend I don't know why you think you have to hide it, especially from me. I'd tell you if I were to go out with Cho, even though you've made it clear you don't like her."

"Oh, just like you'd tell me you made Quidditch Captain?" she said scathingly as she threw her body back against the cool glass of the Greenhouse wall. "You're so presumptuous! I was out here as a favour to a _friend_. While I mayn't have announced my intentions to the Great Hall, my housemates have the deductive abilities to find me if they so wished."

"You weren't at lunch." Harry stated again. "And I wasn't the only one who noticed. You might want to tell your uncle that you and John aren't an item, cause he noticed the both of you missing from the table."

Estella swore. "He is _not_ my boyfriend! I refuse to be in a relationship with someone who I can't share all my secrets with…"

"Is that why you hate Cho so much then?" Harry asked suddenly. "Because I'm the only boy allowed to know all your secrets, I'm the only one who would fit the criteria…"

"Ew, no, you daft prat!" Estella made a face. "I'm not _that_ baseless! I just don't have time for that sort of thing right now! And nor should you if you took your role seriously!"

"Estella, there's no saying that we can't have a _balance_…" Harry's voice trailed off as he was plagued by his own doubts.

"Whatever, Harry." Estella waved him off dismissively, smirking slightly when she thought of something to lighten the load. "You're not the one with a professor for an uncle… a highly _protective_ expert at Dark Arts at that. Trust me, I'm doing the male population of Hogwarts a favour by concentrating on my schoolwork."

"Um, maybe you should find Snape before he finds John, then," Harry suggested, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

"Oh, bollocks!" Estella's eyes widened in realisation as she held her hand out for the map and began to scour it for signs of her uncle. Seeing the striding footsteps labelled 'Severus Snape' heading directly for the completely oblivious mark labelled 'John Ryan' as it made its way into the Entrance Hall, Estella's face paled. "Too late!"

* * *

By the time Estella reached the Entrance Hall, John and her uncle were nowhere to be seen. She was just about to make her way towards her uncle's office where, no doubt, her unfortunate friend was having his ear chewed off, when an unwelcome obstacle made itself known.

"_Hem, hem,_" the tell-tale call of the loathed Ministry official prickled at her ears like nails running down a chalkboard. Pretending to have not heard the woman, Estella kept walking, determined not to turn around.

"Miss _Black_!"

'Bugger!' Estella scowled inwardly and turned around slowly, schooling her face into what she hoped was an innocent look.

"Oh, I'm sorry Ms Umbridge! Was that you? I though Mrs Norris was choking on a fur ball, the poor thing." said Estella, her voice dripping with innocence. To herself, she added, 'nope, you're still wearing that god-awful cardigan, my mistake!'

Across from her, the short, mousy-haired woman curled her lips into a grimace. Unable to detect the intended rudeness in Estella's tone, she took the girl's observation as a innocent mistake and refrained from taking defensive action.

"A moment in my office, if you'd please?" asked Umbridge, though Estella sensed no tone of question in the woman's voice.

"Oh? Um, you see, I've actually missed lunch, and I was just about to…" Estella tried to defer the inevitable anyway.

"It wasn't a request, Ms Black." Umbridge snapped impatiently. Estella found herself wondering how many of her schoolmates had the woman matched with her uncle. She shuddered at the thought.

"Very well." Estella nodded politely and turned to follow the woman up a staircase. "But may I ask what all this is about?"

"You may, but I will not answer until we are in private." was Umbridge's response. Coming up to a non-descript office door, the toad-like woman released the wards and gestured for her to step through first. "Come along, this won't take long."

Turning back to nod at the woman in acknowledgement, Estella didn't notice the other occupant of the room until her hostess had closed the door behind them and locked it.

"What the _hell_ are you doing here?" she gasped, intuitively reeling back at the sight of Lucius Malfoy leaning against a desk. Knowing Umbridge was behind her, however, she couldn't get as far back as she would have liked. She settled for drawing her wand.

"Expelliarmus!" The stern voice of the dotty Ministry official caught her unaware, and her wand was torn from her hand. "Now, now, is that anyway to greet a School Governor?"

"School Governor?" Estella gaped. "_School Governor_!"

She was at a loss for words.

'_Oh shite_!' her inner voice was screaming. 'Malfoy with a wand! Malfoy with a wand! No one knows I am here! Oh crap…'

If not for the anger and derision she felt towards the woman behind her, Estella was certain she would have launched into a full-blown panic attack. She noted somewhat absently that her pendant was not burning, but it wouldn't be the first time the resourceful dark wizard had exploited means to neutralise it. Only a fragment of her mind clung to the hope that perhaps the pendant wasn't burning because Lucius couldn't pose a risk to her in front of a witness.

Umbridge. Never did Estella ever imagine that she'd ever feel grateful for that woman's presence.

"What's all this about?" she asked the woman, refusing to turn her back on Malfoy so as to look at her.

Umbridge went on to confirm that this meeting was in fact to discuss her father's 'documented' behaviour and express a vested concern for her well being. As Ministry representative, Umbridge was to interview her and submit a report to the Department of Family Services, whilst Lucius, as School Governor, was representing the school's interests. When asked why her uncle couldn't be there in Lucius' stead, she was promptly informed that as both her next of kin and professor, Severus Snape had a 'conflict of interests', and subsequently, 'all other' members of staff were likely to be bias as his colleagues.

'Conflict of interest?' Estella rolled the words over in her mind, raising a brow slightly and staring intently at the elder Malfoy who curled his lip in an unmistakable smirk.

Knowing that the woman had already made her mind up about her father's inability to be a parent, Estella tuned out the insults and derogatory comments being made about him. When Lucius prompted the Ministry puppet to suspect Estella as being a flight risk and mention was made to a tracking charm 'for her own good', Estella couldn't help but react.

"Not bloody likely!" she shrieked, backing away from both adults, heading further into the room. Clearly, they underestimated her resourcefulness, for it was a point of fact that such Charms could not be made without Ministry approval, and even then it was only used on suspected criminals awaiting trial.

"Lucius, please restrain the girl. The spell requires wand to flesh contact." Umbridge nodded to Malfoy who moved from his stance against the desk for the first time. Had Estella eaten lunch, she would have lost it all over the man's shoes on account of the predatory gleam in his eyes. Estella knew she must have looked like a caged animal, her eyes darting back and forth looking for a way out as the man approached her slowly.

"Come now, don't make it any worse than it has to be." Lucius' voice drawled at her, laced with false sincerity. Not missing the double-meaning of his words, she shook her head in denial. The man continued to get closer to her, and Estella knew she was running out of floor space. When her back hit a bookshelf on the far wall, Lucius stopped in his approach. "Cooperate, child, and I assure you it will be quite painless."

"Never in your life!" Estella hissed, drawing her mother's wand and casting a shielding charm and summoning her wand in rapid succession. She knew Malfoy was not just referring to the tracking charm, but she didn't care. By the time she had her own wand back in hand, both Lucius and Umbridge had drawn their wands on her. Estella knew that she had to stall for time until a teacher could find them. Under no circumstances could that tracking charm be placed on her… she'd never be able to leave Hogwarts. If she remembered correctly, only the person who cast the spell could track her with it, and only that person could remove it.

'C'mon Harry, look at the map!' Estella chanted in her mind, praying to whoever would listen. Though her pendant was a Portkey, she did not wish to rely upon it if it could be avoided. A teacher stumbling upon them was more preferable then simply vanishing from the school and later having to explain the Portkey to the likes of Umbridge. Every one knew that only a member of Hogwarts staff can create a Portkey that can be activated from within the school, and the last thing she wanted to do was implicate her uncle in any wrong-doing.

Several disarming spells were thrown her way, but with a wand in each hand, her shields were too strong. It was, however, a small blessing. Estella knew she couldn't keep her shield so strong for any longer than a few moments at a time, and she did not doubt that a strong, simultaneously cast spell from the two adults before her would hit its intended target.

Beads of sweat were dripping from her brow and running down her cheeks like the tears pooling in her eyes. Estella could feel her shields failing, and she wasn't sure she could get her hand to her pendant fast enough to activate her Portkey. Thankfully, the office door blew off its hinges, and, not a moment too soon, Albus Dumbledore let his presence be known.

"Dumbledore!" Estella called out weakly, her head beginning to swim under the magical strain. In front of her, Umbridge immediately turned to address the Headmaster, but Lucius was still slowly advancing on her. Blinking through water-logged eyes, Estella sensed, more so than saw, Dumbledore distracted by Umbridge's verbiage. He probably assumed that Lucius Malfoy would not do something so foolish as hurt Estella in his presence. He'd clearly not considered that a harmful spell was the least of Estella's worries.

"Get away from me!" Estella cried out, this time drawing Dumbledore's attention.

"Lucius!" Dumbledore called out in warning, but the blonde wizard was too close to Estella to risk magical intervention. Knowing this, the determined pureblood continued, the weakening shields around his target not designed to deflect physical contact.

"No!"

END CHAPTER

Next Chapter: Just Friends

Due: 28th of March (I'm putting it in my diary in big bold letters, I swear!)

A/N: Profile has been updated


	14. Just Friends

Disclaimer: Nope, still not mine…

Updated: Tuesday 28th March 2006 (OMG! I kept to my deadline! Is that a flying pig?)

**Chapter Fourteen: Just Friends?**

Estella had never seen Dumbledore look so mad. In the brief moments before her Portkey had activated, the headmaster looked positively livid. Hearing later how Lucius Malfoy was admitted to St Mungo's unable to recollect the day's events or account for his condition, Estella almost wished she had not used the Portkey. Almost. Lucius Malfoy had been close… too close. By the time Estella had clasped her hand around her pendant, the polished tip of Malfoy's wand was brushing across the fabric of her school robes.

Though the required wand to flesh contact was not achieved, a spell was cast. Caught up in the moment of activating her Portkey, Estella did not catch the intent of Lucius' action; but it was widely suspected to be non-verbal. However the delivery, the effects were instantaneous. Thankfully, the Portkey had whisked her to safety before the spell could be completed, and the bookshelf behind the man's intended target had borne the brunt of the curse. That said, the concentration of magic around her as she used the Portkey did not leave Estella unscathed. At the best of times, Portkey use left the magical traveller a little disorientated or nauseous, but when mixed with outside magical forces, the symptoms were magnified.

Sirius had been in the library of his former childhood home doing research when the wards had alerted him to a disturbance upstairs. Upon finding his daughter lying unconscious in a pool of vomit, the bewildered man had initially believed the sight before him to be a rogue Boggart. Afterwards, he couldn't apologise to his child enough for the mix-up. In order to prevent Sirius from exacting revenge upon the hospitalised Malfoy in a fit of anger, Dumbledore had arranged for Estella to recover in her father's care. With Tonks resuming her role as Estella's double, the cover story involving an unsupervised potions accident was established, with 'Estella' spending a week in the Infirmary.

Because Dumbledore had 'meddled' with the memories of both Umbridge and Malfoy, the issue of Estella's guardianship was no closer to being resolved. What's more, because Lucius Malfoy could remember nothing of his meeting with Estella, he could not be questioned about his intentions or held accountable. While it was apparent that Dumbledore had acted in the best interests of school security by concealing the fact that it was possible for students to possess emergency Portkeys, Estella couldn't help but wonder if the Order leader had an ulterior motive in keeping Lucius Malfoy at large. With Lucius putting heat on the Department of Family Services, Sirius was dependent on Dumbledore for access to his children, and, as such, the old man could reacquire some control over their lives.

Her absence from the student body was not without its own consequences. In order for Tonks to maintain her cover for an extended period, the impostor's visitors (in the Infirmary) had been limited. Unsurprisingly, these impositions did not appear to apply to Harry, who, armed with his Invisibility Cloak and the knowledge that the girl in Madam Pomfrey's care was Tonks, came and went as he pleased. No one had expected that to be an issue, but then no one had expected Harry's frequent visits to be caught by more than one pair of observant eyes.

* * *

Quidditch try-outs had come and gone, and the two male members of her Ravenclaw circle of friends had both made the house team. It was not unusual then, for John and Reg to disappear after classes. If there wasn't a physical practice, the Ravenclaw team would strategically theorise, studying documented game plans of their predecessors and procrastinate. With Estella working extra hard to catch up on her classes and make progress on her _other_ project, it felt like she never saw them. Busy though she was, Estella could not deny that something had changed. Whenever she sat with the boys in class, Reg was overly talkative, going to lengths to compensate for John's sudden quiet and aloof behaviour around her.

"All right, what's up with you?" Estella had cornered John in the Broom Shed after practice and was not going to step aside until she had some answers.

"Let me by, Estella," said John quietly, a strange weary tone to his voice. "I need to go shower."

Estella leant forward and sniffed experimentally at John's Quidditch Robes. Over the overpowering aroma of wet grass and broom polish that characterised the interior of the musty shed, she could detect a faint whiff of sweat. She shrugged. "I think I can handle it."

"Estella," John warned, becoming increasingly exasperated, "I don't have time for this! I have Arithmancy to study…"

"Make time." Estella almost growled as she stood firm. Seeing John's eyes widen, she changed tactics. Bowing her head in a submissive show of defeat, she sighed. "I just want to know what's wrong."

Estella's display of vulnerability emboldened the young Ravenclaw boy, and he let his anger rise to the surface.

"Wrong?" he asked, surprising both Estella and himself with the vehemence behind the statement. "You want to know what's wrong? For a Ravenclaw you sure can be thick some times!"

"John!" Estella's mouth fell open in shock and she found herself taking defensive action. "I sure as hell didn't come here to trade insults..."

"I'm sorry." John cut her off, his tone suddenly remorseful.

Curiously, he looked the girl in front of him in the eye. Spluttering, he shook his head in disbelief at her puzzled expression. "You really don't get it!" he muttered, mostly to himself. "You really… you really don't know…"

"Know what?"

"I like you." John blurted out in a rush of breath.

Blinking slowly at her friend's affirmation, Estella rolled her eyes. "Of course you like me!" she said, completely missing the point. "We wouldn't be friends if you didn't – why'd you think I'd not know that?"

"No, I mean…" John's voice trailed off as he reconsidered his options. Taking a different approach, he moved the conversation into cooler waters. "How come we couldn't visit you in the Infirmary?"

"What?" Estella was surprised by this sudden line of questioning. Her stay in the 'Infirmary' had been weeks ago. "Is this why you've been avoiding me? Because you were upset about not being able to see me while I was recovering?"

"Yes… no…" John was getting flustered, and he began running a hand through his hair compulsively. "I just want to know why we couldn't see you. I was worried and no one would tell us anything, and then whenever I tried sneaking in, _Harry_ was there and well… how come he could visit you and we couldn't? There, I said it!"

"Huh? What… oh…" the facts slowly began to piece together for Estella. "John, Harry is my father's godson, right?" John nodded. "Well, that means that he's practically family, and you know what Pomfrey can be like… I doubt she even wanted Harry there, but he probably played the family card."

"Oh, so you don't like Harry then?" John looked almost relieved.

Frowning slightly, Estella began to wonder just where her friend was going with this.

"Why would I not like Harry?" she raised a brow. "It'd be pretty hard to live with him if I hated him."

"But you hardly spoke to him after the start of term!" John frowned.

"So? We had a fight… I told you that… it happens…"

"But ever since you got out of the Infirmary, you can't get enough of him…" John was becoming increasingly agitated.

"Yeah, because every time I try and speak with you lately, you brush me off… and all Reg wants to do now is talk about Quidditch and Elsie's all wrapped up in that Hufflepuff guy. What was I supposed to do?" Estella was equally agitated. Though her latest encounter with Lucius Malfoy had served well in patching things up between herself and Harry, ever since she'd been back things just hadn't been the same between her friends and herself. This, added with her Order responsibilities and the continued threat Malfoy, Umbridge and the clueless Ministry posed to her home situation left Estella emotionally bereft.

"Yes, but Malfoy?" John said disgustedly, digging deeper into the cause of his dissent. "Really, Estella!"

Estella froze. What did John know about Malfoy? "Malfoy?" she asked. "What's he got to do with any of this?"

"Now you really must be thick to not notice the interest _he's_ been showing in you lately." John pointed out, before narrowing his eyes at the girl he was unconsciously advancing towards. "And you must really think I'm thick if you didn't think I'd notice how much you've been looking at him since you got out of the Infirmary. I'm not stupid, Estella. I saw him loitering around the Infirmary too. So, what, did he manage to get in? What's with you two? You can do a lot better than some slimy Slytherin."

Like a bolt of lightning, everything became resoundingly clear in Estella's mind. Replaying their recent conversation in her head, she realised with a gasp that John's behaviour of late was attributable to jealousy and that, if his previously misunderstood admission was true, then he truly liked her. Moments earlier, as the course of their bizarre interlude led her thoughts to drift on the stresses of her life; Estella had been on the verge of tears. Now, as she looked into the thoughtful, impassioned gaze of one of her closest friends, she began to feel… something else.

"My _uncle_ happens to be a Slytherin!" she said quietly, hoping that the slight defensive nature she felt whenever someone knocked her uncle's house would prove distracting.

"You know that's not what I meant." John's voice was virtually in her ear as he leaned in close.

Inhaling sharply as she fought to regain control of her senses, Estella became aware that, at some point in their conversation, John had backed her up against the door, and he was now standing alarmingly close to her. Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw the profile of the young man before her begin to visibly tremble under her gaze. Nervously, she licked at her lips, not even aware that she was doing so, and mentally thanked herself that she had something solid to lean back against.

"Estella, I…" John leaned his face in again and was lost for words when their eyes met. Too caught up in the spiral of emotions surrounding them, neither teenager paid any heed to the approach of footsteps outside. Before either of them could get a grasp on what was happening, the door that Estella had been leaning against was flung open and they found themselves in a rather compromising position, sprawled at the feet of a group of teenagers.

Taking in the sight of the tell-tale livery of the defending Quidditch champions, Estella found a particularly knobbly pair of knees and trained her eyes upwards to look at their owner. Harry was looking so livid, it was positively comical. Overcome with an attack of the giggles, Estella became increasingly aware of the heavy weight pinning her down.

"Oi, John, you big oaf! Gerroff! You smell!" she giggled even harder, equally amused and humiliated by the sniggers and knowing looks of the players around her.

Hearing his team mates begin to whistle and cat-call at the busted pair made Harry even more indignant. Seeing this, Estella laughed even more, completely oblivious to John, who had scrambled to his feet muttering awkward apologies and was now trying to help an uncooperative Estella to her feet.

"Merlin!" she exclaimed, clambering uncoordinatedly to her feet and leaning heavily against John as her eyes sought out Harry's. "I don't think I've laughed so hard since that time you got your foot stuck in the trick step and my uncle…"

A shrill, piercing ring of a whistle being blown cut the rambling girl off and brought her to her senses. Stiffening slightly, Estella straightened and shot Harry an apologetic look as he lowered his Captain's whistle from his lips; his mouth still very much pressed into a thin line, as though his mouth were still wrapped around the shiny metal device.

Watching the silent exchange between the two dark-haired teens, John did not relinquish his possessive hold on Estella. His arm had instinctually snaked around her waist while she had required assistance finding her feet. Now that he was familiar with the feeling, he found he was not going to let go unless prompted. That Estella had made no move to pull away and had instead leaned into him as they faced down the leering Gryffindor Quidditch team filled his heart with unmistakable joy. Schooling the wide smile from his face with a fair amount of effort, he began to pull Estella away from the Broom Shed.

"C'mon, let's leave the Gryffs to their practice," he said, whispering into Estella's ear, secretly relishing in the scent of her shampoo and chuckling lowly when her hair brushed his nose as she nodded.

Walking side by side in the direction of the change-rooms, the pair made the most of the companionable silence, each losing themselves in their respective thoughts as they made their way up the hill.

"Estella," said John hoarsely as they reached the door to the change-rooms. Pulling the girl in his arms around so that they were now facing each other, he found her eyes. "Come… come to Hogsmeade with me?"

Feeling inexplicably dizzy at the implications of this moment, all Estella could do was nod dumbly in response. Then, before she knew it, John had kissed her cheek in parting and darted off into the change-rooms without another word. Turning on her heel, Estella's palm flew up to reverently cup the cheek John's lips had touched. Though she'd been kissed like that many times by other people, somehow this time was different.

Smiling dazedly as she sauntered back towards the castle at a languid pace, Estella was oblivious to the pair of emerald green eyes watching her every move. Waiting outside the Broom Shed whilst his team fossicked around inside for the best brooms whilst making up lewd stories about what the two Ravenclaws had been up to within its walls, Harry's grip tightened on his Firebolt. Spotting Estella's reaction to John's chaste kiss, Harry's eyes narrowed; and as his thoughts drifted to the Ravenclaw Keeper, he found himself unable to comprehend the torrent of feelings in his mind.

* * *

"I don't believe this!" Estella scowled at the reflection in the mirror defiantly. "If I want to go to Hogsmeade with a friend and I'm not breaking any school rules in doing so, then you can't stop me!"

"I can revoke your Hogsmeade privileges!" Sirius threatened, his voice sounding oddly recycled as it reverberated through the glass. The latest Order meeting had been the day before, and it had been Harry's turn to attend. Estella's mind was still incredulous that Harry had seen reason to fill her father in on what he _thought_ he'd witnessed by the Broom Shed earlier that day that she was struggling to put words to her derision.

Taking advantage of her uncharacteristic silence, Sirius continued. "Don't play me for a fool, Estella," he said. "I know as well as anyone what Quidditch players do when they lure a girl to the Broom Shed! And now Harry tells me he found you both behind the Greenhouses! I don't care that you had your brooms with you… you're not one to go off flying one on one with a boy without telling anyone where you are and staying out of sight of a teacher. You're smarter than that!"

"Oh, am I?" Estella snapped, her voice rising with every word. "YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING! I CAN'T BELIEVE THAT YOU ACTUALLY THOUGHT I WOULD DO…_THAT_… IN THE BROOM SHED!" Clearing the spittle from her chin, she continued in a hoarse voice barely above a whisper. "I wish Remus were here! _He_ doesn't jump to stupid conclusions! Just because _you_ played Quidditch and did I-don't-even-want-to-think-what in that blasted shed it doesn't make you an authority on all Quidditch players! If you really must know, _I_ cornered him; as for the Greenhouse, I _was_ helping John prepare for try-outs. Now, you can believe that if you want to, but know that if you don't I will consider it a personal insult."

"Damn it, Estella!" Sirius' reflection in the mirror was disrupted as he switched hands to rub at his face. "It's not that I can't accept that… that… that you're growing up…" his voice faltered as he fought to find the right words. Not willing to watch his daughter grow up was precisely the problem, and both of them knew it. "It's just that Harry sounded so concerned when he told me, and I began to think that maybe this John bloke is up to something… men are better at sussing each other out like that, sweetheart."

"Don't you 'sweetheart' me, you condescending git!" Estella shrieked. "So you don't trust my judgement, is that what you're saying? That you will take Harry's word over mine because he's a '_man_' and I'm a lowly girl? What century did you spring from?"

"I didn't mean it like that!" Sirius exclaimed, retracting his previous statement hopelessly. "It's just, well, it's just like how you were about not wanting me to go with you to the station…"

"So are you saying that I can't go to Hogsmeade at all?" Estella narrowed her eyes at her father's apologetic look. "What about Harry, then? I suppose _he_ still gets to go because he has Order business to contend with? Oh I really don't believe this!"

The Order business Estella was referring to was a joint initiative by both teenagers to establish a place in Hogsmeade that would appeal to those students with Muggle heritage. With the Dark Lord gaining power and making his presence known in the outreaches of magical society, the Ministry had begun to take the security of Hogsmeade and the Hogwarts students very seriously. Scrimgeour had wanted to cancel the students' Hogsmeade visits entirely, but Dumbledore had stood firm. With Muggleborn and half-blood students forming the most likely targets for Voldemort sympathisers, one of the primary objectives of the Order was to devise something that would concentrate the susceptible population of the school in a manageable perimeter within the village.

Originally, the plan was to visibly limit the number of places students could go. The Aurors stationed in the wizarding municipal could not possibly patrol every inch of the village while it was being overrun with hundreds of rowdy teenagers. Members of the local community however – store owners on the outskirts in particular – had demonstrated an unsettling aversion to the proposed security measures and so a more covert form of protection was sought. The idea of creating an under-aged, Muggle-themed dance club had come from the absent musings of Estella shortly after she returned from her unscheduled stay in London. Harry had taken to the idea like a Snitch to flight, and, busy enough with her own Order responsibilities, she let Harry run with it.

All involved knew there was an element of risk involved in publicly encouraging prospective targets to congregate at one widely known location. If Voldemort were to suspect that the venture was in any way Ministry-driven, then he would be likely to have his Death Eaters attack out of spite. However, so long as people thought that it was a student-driven initiative, funded by the generosity of a mysterious benefactor, then it would be safe. Voldemort was no fool, and he rarely struck out at large groups of wizards without provocation. History had proven that Voldemort revelled in textbook bully-tactics: gathering a large group of Death Eaters to pick off wizards one or two at a time. The few times Voldemort had launched full-scale attacks – like the one in Hogsmeade early his campaign while Estella had been in the past – may have done a lot of damage, but were not without a cost to the enemy and so, rather rare.

"Estella, I don't want you going to Hogsmeade," Sirius roused Estella from her musings. Echoing his daughter's words as she had previously pleaded with him not to go to King's Cross, he continued. "Please… worrying about one of you running about outside the protections of the school wards is torturous enough."

"I'll stick by Tonks, and it's not like we'll be alone! Reg'll hang out with us too, and with his uncle part of the Ministry's deployment of Aurors and his brother Roger living in the village there'll be more than enough eyes watching out for us. Not to mention I have my Portkey…" at her father's stubborn and unrelenting look, she scowled. "But what am I doing trying to convince you that I'll be safe? This has nothing to do with Voldemort; you just don't want me to go with John!"

"Estella," said Sirius carefully. "Now is probably not the best time for you to be complicating your life with a romantic interest. Isn't that what you told Harry, anyway?"

"For the last time, John is not a '_romantic interest_'!"

"Does John know this? Harry seems to think he's smitten…"

"Oh for the love of Merlin, will you shut up about Harry!" she snapped. "The only reason he's so shirty about John is because I as much as told him that his precious Cho Chang is a conniving, emotional basket-case who only wants to go out with him because of his fame!" she glared at her father's unsurprised look. "Oh, let me guess," she drawled, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "You give _Harry's_ pursuits your blessing! Well, let me tell you something, Sirius Black: if you're so dead set about Harry being better at reading John's intentions, then let _me_ tell you a thing or two about that _bitch_ Harry has his eye on…"

Recognising his beloved wife's temper manifesting itself in the miniature form of their daughter, Sirius couldn't help but burst into loud, uncontrollable laughter.

"What are you laughing at?" Estella growled at her father's mirth. "It was not my intention to be funny!"

Sirius' head disappeared as he apparently doubled over. Because the mirror was still firmly clasped in his hand, however, the connection was upheld and Estella continued to hear her father's guffaws.

"Oh, Merlin…" he managed between gasps of air. "Now… now… Severus… good Lord… you're killing me here!"

"I don't have to listen to this!" Estella shouted, again appreciative for her foresight in spelling the curtains around her bed with privacy charms. "Go ahead and revoke my Hogsmeade privileges for all I care! But let me warn you that I _will_ be going to Hogsmeade with John either way."

"Oh, Estella!" Sirius sobered suddenly, though he chuckled slightly in incredulity. "You don't understand… I… I… promised Harry I wouldn't say anything… but I can't go on like this… we're going around in circles…"

"What in Bluebell's Flames are you talking about now?" Estella screwed up her face at yet another reference to Harry. "And another thing, what makes Harry so damn special? You should listen to yourself, Dad! Everything's been Harry this and Harry said that! What's Harry got to do with who I choose to spend my time with?"

"Estella, can't you see it? Harry's jealous!" Sirius blurted out.

"Of what? Of the fact that my suitors aren't a mass of attention-seeking cows and spineless whelps who can't even stand to be in the same room as me because of something I may have done as a baby?"

"No, you daft bookworm!" Sirius admonished his daughter, marvelling in the fact that his child could be sharp as a knife when it came to book smarts or holding her own amongst a group of adults when yet she could be so utterly clueless when it came to peers her own age. "Harry's put out that you don't consider _him_ as one of your… what did you call it… _suitors_. He's jealous of John!"

"What? That's preposterous!" Estella spluttered, though inwardly she had to admit that it accounted for a lot. "He's like a brother!"

"Estella…" Sirius took a deep breath as he tried to find the right approach. "You may have grown up with full knowledge of who Harry was in relation to you… but Harry didn't even know you existed until he was eleven. Yes, at first he was drawn to you because of the connection you had to his past, but now he's starting to notice boys show an interest in you… well let's just say I can't blame him for considering you a 'stellar' catch."

"Oh, ha, very funny!" Estella rolled her eyes at her father's pun. Inwardly, her mind was spinning at the implications of her father's words. Just what had he and Harry talked about after the meeting? Smirking in an attempt for good humour, Estella went on. "Please don't tell me all this just now doesn't just amount to you trying to play matchmaker! I thought you were joking with all that stuff before…"

At her father's sheepish look of hope, Estella stamped her foot in vain – for the act of physical indignation was lost through the conveyance of the mirrors. "Dad!" she whined pathetically. "C'mon! I'm not saying you're right about how you think Harry feels, but did you ever stop to think that maybe I don't want Harry to think of me in that way?"

"Yes." said Sirius simply. "And I came to the conclusion that perhaps you don't even know what you want."

"Wow, Dad, that was truly profound!" Estella drawled in a fake tone of commendation. "Pray tell what led you to assume that?"

"Just why are you so against Harry showing an interest in Cho Chang, Estella? Think about it." Sirius asked his daughter bluntly. "It's not like you to exhibit such open disdain towards another."

"Says he who also said that it wasn't like me to cavort around on a broomstick behind the Greenhouses, and yet I did that!" Estella pointed out glibly. "_Maybe_ I am just protective of Harry's interests because I. See. Him. As. A. BROTHER!"

Sirius sighed, the implication that he perhaps did not know his daughter as well as he had thought cut at him. "Just hear me out on this kiddo. Ask yourself if Cho really deserves your judgement, or if you are driven by the fact that you wish Harry turned to mush around _you_…"

"Are you suggesting I'm jealous of Cho Chang?" Now it was Estella's turn to laugh – though, and Estella would never admit this, her giggling was mainly a cover for the consideration she was giving her father's suggestion. Trying to convince herself more than anything, Estella shook her head. "Why would I want to have Harry as a belligerent puddle of nerves at my feet? He's such better company when he can construct whole sentences!"

Sirius chuckled at the imagery. "I'm sure he is, kiddo," he said lightly. "I guess it's only for you to know if you've ever craved anything more with him."

"Oh, and if I did, I suppose _that_ would be something you'd approve of!"

"I wouldn't object." Sirius admitted. "I just want to see you happy, sweetheart. When I see you and Harry together… I don't know if it's just wishful thinking or my mind's been swayed by the games James and I used to play… but I see more…"

"Look…" Estella cut her father off. "I can't promise that I'll never see merit in the idea that Harry and I are meant for each other, but right now it's John who I want to hang out with, and if you truly want to see me happy you would give me your blessing." She took a breath. "It's not like I'm absolutely smitten with the guy and have started planning for a future with him! I'm still only thirteen, and John's a guy I get along with really well. What's more, he's stuck with me since day one and I trust him. Isn't that enough reason to do the polite thing in accepting his invitation? We're not talking about a Gryffindor here, Dad. It would have taken a lot of guts for him to get up the nerve to ask me, I couldn't say no."

"Oh," said Sirius, looking visibly more relaxed now he was a little more informed about the extent of his daughter's experience with boys. Though deep down he knew his daughter was smart enough not to indulge in the kind of fraternisation that gave the Broom Shed and courtyard behind the Greenhouses their reputations, Sirius had been unable to remain unaffected by the mere association of his child being in the proximity of those areas with a member the opposite sex. "I'm not so sure I'm any more comfortable with the idea of your accepting dates out of some sense of duty."

"Dad, trust me, okay?" Estella looked at her father pleasingly. "I didn't really mean what I said earlier about going to Hogsmeade without permission. You're my father, and it wouldn't be right to defy you, even when you're being a complete idiot."

"Oh, and there I thought you were apologising!" Sirius feigned a look of hurt before smiling slightly. "I'm going to regret saying this, but I think I'll be glad to see you use your better judgement when it's clear I'm being stupid and reckless with my own."

"I think it's best if I pretend I didn't just hear that." Estella smirked evilly. "Though as a show of good sportsmanship I feel it is my duty to inform you that a Pensieve memory will be kept of the admission should ever I need to turn your words against you!"

"I wouldn't expect any less from a child of mine," admitted Sirius, his mood lightening. "Lily and your mother always used to warn Prongs and I that our sins would be revisited upon us via any child we fathered. Of course, they always said that before they knew they'd marry us. Never said a word of it after they each got pregnant… though sometimes I wonder that with all the pair of you put me through, there wasn't a hint of Divination in the girl's comments after all. It seems like no coincidence that I was three times as bad as what Prongs ever was and I am the only one to live long enough to be turned grey by our spawn."

"Aha!" Estella stubbed the forefinger of her free hand at the mirror in triumph. "You admitted it! It is you who is turning grey – not just Moony!"

Sirius sighed in mock defeat. "Yet another thing I've come to regret saying this evening. Remind me again why I called?"

"Uh, to make things between John and I so hopelessly impossible that I would have no choice but to fall into the arms of a boy-I-consider-a-brother?" Estella raised a brow in challenge.

"You make it sound so… so wrong!"

"Well," Estella said flippantly, going in for the kill. "I must say you're getting better. At least you're no longer trying to set me up with my godfather!"

Sirius blushed. "I thought we all agreed not to talk about that!" he protested. "I was 15, and how was I supposed to know you were really my daughter from the future?" he huffed. "Fine. I'll admit it. I'm a lousy match maker! Go to Hogsmeade with John. He's a Ravenclaw, so he shouldn't need warning about what will happen to him if he hurts you…"

"Oh, don't worry, I think Uncle Sev will be quite effective in that department." Estella grimaced, wondering how John had fared with the man while she was held up by Umbridge and Malfoy that day.

* * *

John tactfully avoided Estella until a few days short of the Hogsmeade weekend. He told her then that he didn't want to give her a chance to back out; but if Estella was honest, she'd been far too busy with study. Ravenclaws, as a rule, thrived when saddled with supplementary reading. Though the conscientious pupils varied in terms of their intelligence and ability, there wasn't a Ravenclaw that wasn't well read.

The morning of the Hogsmeade visit, Estella found that she was strangely nervous. As much as she supposed the outing was her first real 'date', part of Estella could not reconcile the boy who had always just been a good friend, with what he now represented. The fact that their friendship was evolving worried her in the sense that she didn't know what would happen if things between them now didn't work out. Her father's words to her during their mirror conversation several days earlier echoed in her mind still, and yet she was no closer to finding an answer.

Harry, for his part, appeared to be sulking. When the Boy-Who-Lived caught word that Sirius had given Estella his consent to go to Hogsmeade with John and her friends, his whole demeanour changed. What little Estella saw of the Gryffindor – which wasn't much since the logistics of being in different years and houses made it difficult to see each other at all – she was quick to note the terse, strange looks he was casting her way. When the sour-looking Gryffindor 'coincidentally' found himself in the same carriage as Estella and her friends, she knew she was in for a long day.

"Oh, hi Estella," Harry said casually, feigning surprise as he squeezed into the carriage that would lead them to Hogsmeade. Ron and Hermione, Estella guessed, were on Prefect's Duty, each accompanying a carriage of third years for their first Hogsmeade visit. "I'm glad I bumped into you…"

Looking at the fifth year across from her, Estella shifted closer to John and merely raised a brow. When no one spoke, Harry cleared his throat. "I, um, was hoping to go over some things with you before the, um, set…"

Recognising the code words for 'Order Business' in Harry's bungled delivery, Estella frowned.

"Can't it wait?" she asked politely, gesturing her head slightly towards John. "John and I have plans, and aren't you supposed to be going to Hogsmeade with Cho?"

It had been all over the girl's dormitories that Cho was going out with Harry. The fact that the self-involved girl had, complete with her own little posse of aspiring admirers, taken over the dormitory bathroom to see to her vital preparations for 'the date' made the news pretty hard to miss. After being turned away from the shower blocks earlier by Cho's personal shadows, Estella got secret satisfaction from the reality that Cho Chang was nowhere near as important as she believed she was. For all intents and purposes, Harry now looked as though he'd just been reminded of a Dentist's appointment. Seeing him blanch slightly, Estella didn't miss the fact that he was quick to try and cover up that he had forgotten about his date.

"Oh, yeah," said Harry nonchalantly. "I'm meeting with her at Madam Puddifoot's after the launch."

"_After_ the launch?" Estella's lip curled. "What, Cho _doesn't_ want to be seen hanging off your arm when you open the club in front of practically the entire school? That's not what we heard, hey Elsie?"

Estella leaned over John to look across at her friend who was sitting with her date on the same side as Harry. Having witnessed Cho's Lockhart-like melodrama over the past few days, Elsie could not nod her agreement fast enough.

"Everyone was so sure the launch was the only reason Cho was getting so tarted up. Sorry Harry." Elsie said.

Harry looked between the two girls in the carriage with a look of dawning comprehension. Up until now he had been certain that Estella's observations of Cho had been borne from a marked bias. Rather than admit to the possibility of being wrong, he scrambled to defend the girl who was not there to defend herself. "Maybe she was just a little over-zealous in making herself meet the dress-code for Madam Puddifoot's," he said weakly, and Estella could just see that he really wasn't looking forward to the storm that was bound to meet him in Hogsmeade.

"Dress code?" Reg, who was sitting on the other side of John and going stag for the day, spoke for the first time. "Never heard of any dress code there, mate."

An uncomfortable silence passed over the group, and Estella found that she was falling for the pleading, lost look on Harry's face. Making an impulsive decision, she twined her fingers into John's hand and took a deep breath. With what she was about to say, she didn't want John to forget who she had agreed to go out with. "Well I guess it works out for the best," she said simply. "Since only I can help you with that _thing_ at the launch. Would get a little bit crowded with someone like Cho prancing around seeking attention."

"It's the _only_ thing she's good at seeking." Reg sniggered, revealing the House's inside joke about their over-the-top Seeker.

"Oh?" John's grip tightened on Estella's hand in surprise. Estella winced, but it wasn't on account of her hand.

"I'm sorry, John," she said sincerely. "It'll only be for the hour leading up to the launch. I thought you and Reg wouldn't mind the opportunity to check out that new Quidditch display that they reviewed in _Quidditch Weekly_ without the non-Quidditch-mad fan amongst you. I'll hook up with you after the launch and then we could get some, uh, alone time."

"Oh, all right." said John resignedly.

Though he had been quick to accept the plans, Estella knew from his expression that he was rather perturbed at being kept out of the loop. John was the typical Ravenclaw all-rounder, and one resoundingly clear characteristic of the unassuming Quidditch Keeper was that he prided himself on keeping abreast of information. Realising that her friend also like to plan everything meticulously, Estella chewed on her bottom lip in regret.

"You, you didn't have plans for us, did you?" she thought to ask, though she knew the damage had already been done. "I'm sorry! I didn't think! I should have…"

"It's all right." John cut her off. "Actually, I was kind of going to drag you around to the Quidditch display. Well, no, not really, but I didn't make any plans… I didn't want you to think I was one of those guys who insists on making all the decisions."

"I'm still sorry," said Estella humbly, silently hoping that Harry would realise just how much he'd owe her after this. "I feel terrible for not paying you the same mind."

John shrugged. "_This_ is all new for both of us. I don't know about you, but I'm all for making the most of what we get."

The rest of the journey passed in silence, with but a few ideas thrown around regarding how best to weather Cyclonic Cho's wrath.

* * *

"Thank you!" Harry leant in and whispered in Estella's ear after they had parted ways with the occupants of their carriage and avoided a natural disaster with Cho. It had not been pretty.

"You realise you're really going to have to work double time to make the afternoon worth it for Cho." Cho was not the only girl Harry was now indebted to, but truth be told, Estella had enjoyed being on hand to see Cho find out she wasn't able to be the centre of attention at the club launch.

"Don't remind me," Harry groaned.

"You forgot about her, didn't you?" Estella smirked, but then frowned when she saw the look on Harry's face. "Harry, what is it? Surely the launch hasn't frazzled your mind?"

"I… I… oh, I guess I was just nervous about it so much that I pushed it completely out of my mind and got so caught up in the preparations for the, you know, for the _old crowd_." Harry bumbled. "Yeah, that's it."

"_Right_," Estella said, scepticism evident in her tone. "You sound so convinced. I'm not even going to try asking you _why_ you invited her in the first place…"

"It's nice here," Harry said suddenly, stopping in his tracks to turn and face Estella. "This… I mean here… now… you and I… it… it reminds me of summer, you know? I miss it sometimes; but this, this is nice."

"Yeah, you already said that," Estella said quietly, looking up at Harry with a strange expression on her face. Feeling suddenly self-conscious, she rubbed at her arms in search of a distraction. The crisp, fresh climate of early October left a slight chill in one's bones when still. Already, they were able to trace the path of their breath in the air. Lowering her gaze, Estella turned her head to the side and sighed. "I miss it too."

By the time Estella brought herself to look Harry in the eye again, he had stepped in towards her. As he began to lean in so close to her that she could feel the warmth of his breath on her nose, Estella's senses were made aware of his cologne for the first time.

'_Since when does Harry where cologne? Where'd he get cologne from?'_ Estella's mind was so full of questions she didn't know which way was up. She sniffed discreetly. '_Damn, he smells good!_' she found herself thinking before she could stop herself. _'What am I doing? This is Harry! Harry! What's Harry doing wearing cologne anyways? He admitted forgetting about his date with Cho, so who's he out to impress I wonder?_' she gasped as an answer hit her square in the face. _'Oh! No… oh no!'_

About to go into a full-blown panic, she sought out Harry's eyes for confirmation. Before the inexplicably close Gryffindor could open his mouth to speak, they were interrupted by two people Estella had never thought she'd be so happy to see.

"Oi! Harry, mate! There you are!" An enthusiastic Ron Weasley trailed up to them, a breathless Hermione coming up behind him. Regarding Estella with a passing glance, he gave his friend a questioning look. "It's all over The Three Broomsticks that you're standing Cho up at the launch."

Harry and Estella exchanged a bewildered look. Merlin, news travelled fast! Seeing Hermione catch her breath and open her mouth to speak – no doubt a lengthy diatribe about the dangers of walking away from a group and how they should set an example for the third years – Estella stepped away and turned to leave.

"Don't go!" Harry put his Quidditch-honed reflexes to the test by reaching out and grabbing her arm, stopping her. "I thought you were going to come with?"

"You're a big boy now, Harry. You don't need me to hold your hand." she said, trying not to admit as much to herself. "But I want you to!" said Harry, blushing. "I mean, I would like you to be there. The whole thing probably wouldn't exist without your inspiration."

"Big boys also have to learn that they cannot always get what they want, no matter the amount of flattery they use." Estella grinned. "Relax, I was only going to allow you some time with your friends. I'm sure Tonks is flitting around all the new Muggle features – don't you think someone ought to make sure she doesn't blow anything up before we even get started?"

"What d'you mean, Estella was the inspiration? Inspiration for what?" Ron frowned at the oblivious pair when they turned and blinked at him in surprise.

"Leave it, Ronald," said Hermione sternly, giving Harry and Estella a knowing look. "I'm sure anything we need to know will be disclosed to us in due course."

Estella nodded in gratitude. It was becoming apparent that Hermione had come to accept that there would invariably be things Estella knew that she wouldn't be permitted to know. Ever since the bushy-haired Gryffindor had come to such a conclusion, Estella hadn't missed the renewed amicability that had been forged between them. In some ways, Hermione had really been her first friend. When her peers in primary school had outcast her for being different and the older students of Hogwarts steered clear of her because of her uncle's reputation, Hermione had been one of the only ones who would pay her any mind. Of course, once Harry and Ron had saved her from that Troll and become firm friends with her she'd had less and less reason to seek the resident non-student out, but at the end of the day, when it came down to gender, Estella had been the one Hermione could identify with most.

Hermione's insecurities and feelings of inadequacy and jealousy that had surfaced over the time spent together at Grimmauld Place had, however, managed to change their friendship forever. In a lot of ways, Estella figured that it was a natural progression… Hermione could no longer be a role model that Estella could aspire to and learn from. That particular dynamic had run its course. Now, they very much had their own lives, and apart from a passing civility, they didn't have much to do with each other. Seeing Hermione back her up, however, warmed Estella in that it showed that, no matter what had passed between them and how much they had both changed over the last half of summer, she still had someone she could depend on where it counted.

Locking eyes with the brown-eyed girl and passing a silent thanks her way, Estella excused herself quietly and headed towards the Dance Hall.

* * *

"Moony!" Estella half-yelled across the empty Dance Hall that had been transformed into a Muggle disco. The only other occupant of the room was a tall, lanky man bent over a sound desk. When the man had turned into profile as he rummaged through a pile old vinyl records, she had recognised him. Tearing across the freshly-waxed dance floor, Estella paid no mind to who could be watching from behind the screen of smoke billowing from the charmed smoke machine. All she could focus on was the man across the room, now aware of her presence and facing her with open arms.

"Ooomph!" Remus stumbled back, knocking a few records off the table behind him with the force his goddaughter had ploughed into him. Chuckling into her hair as he re-acquainted himself with her scent and feeling as though a missing part of him was now returned. "Surprise!"

Wrapping his arms around her and swaying to the refrains of an unheard song, Remus began to hum. Tightening her hold on her godfather in response, Estella sighed contently into the familiar folds of her godfather's robes as she tried to figure out the source of the tune her godfather was humming.

"It's now or never…" Remus half-sang, half-whispered into her hair, a wry grin on his face. "Come hold me tight…"

"Elvis, Uncle Remus?" Estella twisted in her godfather's arms to look up at him in surprise. "Y'know none of the students will stick around if you play anything predating their births."

Remus shrugged. "That's why your cousin was in charge of the song list and I am just a pretty face," he looked down at his goddaughter with a thoughtful expression. "It surprises me that you're even familiar with Elvis…"

"Remus," Estella pulled away and shook her head in amusement. "I spent nearly four months in the mid seventies, remember? I stayed in a dorm with a hormonal fifteen year old Muggleborn girl who wished she was Priscilla. How could I _not_ know Elvis?"

At that, Estella pulled away entirely and made a beeline for a keyboard she'd noticed by the mixing desk. Touching the sensitive notes experimentally to see if it was on, Estella rested her hands across the glossy keys while she re-familiarised herself with the position. The tune coming back to her, unbidden, like an imprint of her soul seeking breath, she began to play.

"_Love Me Tender_." Remus recognised the song and placed a hand on Estella's shoulder as he moved to stand behind her. A long-buried memory surfaced in his mind, causing his hand to jerk with the intensity.

"What is it?" Estella stopped playing and tilted her head back to look at her godfather.

"Keep playing." said Remus hoarsely, nudging her gently. The child complying, Remus reigned himself in before trusting himself to speak again. "Who… where… how do you know the music to this?"

Estella paused in her playing again as a pained look came over her face. Leaning back into the comfort of her godfather's embrace as his arms circled her shoulders in response, she sighed. "Did you know there was a room at school where Mum used to try and teach Lily how to play the magical way?" Feeling Remus' chin tap the top of her head as he nodded, she exhaled slowly. "One of the songbooks Lily brought in from her Muggle lessons had some Elvis songs in it." she tinkled her fingers across the keys and picked up where she'd left off. "Mum rather preferred the classical pieces, but she showed us anyway. It was the first time, I think, that I ever thought to learn current songs and stuff and not just what my uncle provided me with. I really ought to practice more, though. I need to work on my sight-reading, instead of just relying on the charms and rote methods. Merlin, I can't even remember the last time I played… I didn't realise how much I missed it… missed the peace."

In the time Estella had taken to complete her musings, she'd finished playing the song. Rubbing her upper arms in appreciation, Remus kissed the back of her head.

"That was wonderful," he said. "Just how your mother used to play it. She used to play it when she was pregnant with you, I think. Both Selina and Sirius were like excited school children when they learned how foetuses can hear after a few weeks gestation. Your mother would play, and your father would sing… I remember visiting with them when we were celebrating Harry's Christening. Your Mum wasn't showing yet, but still, she insisted that we all have conversations with her belly."

"Really?" Estella turned into her godfather's arms and looked up to him with hungry eyes. "How come I'm only hearing about this now? I may have been more motivated to practice if you'd told me this a year ago!"

Remus looked down at the child in his arms apologetically. "I'm sorry, cub," he said sincerely. "So much was happening around us while your mother was pregnant, that the little details that are of most relevance to you are not as sharp as they should be. I only remembered that particular memory when you started playing."

"It's all right, Uncle Remus," she said solemnly. "I do understand. I think you have done a fantastic job of letting me know about my parents as I was growing up without both of them. If not for you, I may not have even seen a picture of them until Dad escaped!"

"Oh, I'm sure you would have found a way to convince your uncle eventually." Remus' lips formed a thin line as another thought struck him and he pulled away, frowning. "You know you really should be more careful. I was not expected in Hogsmeade today, how did you know I wasn't a Death Eater in disguise?"

Estella furrowed her brow at the sudden change in subject, taking a while to regain her bearings. "Uh, _because_ you weren't expected in Hogsmeade?" she responded, though it had sounded more like a question. Shrugging at her godfather's silent request for a more substantial answer she frowned. "I don't know. I just… knew…"

Pulling her into a hug once more, Remus nodded. Neither of them could really understand it, but Remus believed his cub when she said she'd just known it was him. On some level, he supposed it was like pack wolves in the wild and how a stray always found their way home.

* * *

The rest of the morning leading up to the launch was spent with Estella assisting Remus set up the hall whilst confiding in him all her recent doubts and worries. Knowing the man had only ever been a mirror-call away was a comfort to Estella, but with not wanting to endanger her godfather's cover my initiating mirror-contact and craving the physical comfort the man's stabilising presence could give, nothing could beat a meeting in person.

Shortly before the doors were to open, Tonks arrived with Harry and but for a short while it was as though they had recaptured the magic that had bewitched their summer holiday. With everyone working together, the launch went off without a hitch. Harry gave a flawless delivery of the address forwarded to him by the project's 'Muggle benefactor' and between Harry's friends and Estella's, Cho had been kept at arm's length until after the festivities had concluded. Estella had lost track of Harry after that, but was too swept up in her godfather's company to pay much attention to anything.

"My father is positively a bad influence over you!" Estella marvelled at her godfather as they squeezed into Tonks' tiny flat above the main street after sneaking out of the Dance Hall, their job there finished. Tonks, meanwhile, had said something about picking up some supplies and meeting them later.

Not even her father knew about Remus' visit, and as for Dumbledore, well the man still assumed his faithful servant was still out in the field, undercover.

"Won't your mission be jeopardised by you being here? My goodness, forgive me! I've been so wrapped up in telling you my news I simply did not think to ask how you were holding up without your potion!" Estella looked at her godfather in concern.

"That's all right, sweetheart. You don't have to ask after me for me to know you care," said Remus warmly, pulling her to him. "The transformations have not been so bad while I have been in the company of others. The wolf is a pack creature and is not as anguished when amongst its own kind."

"What about the bloodlust?" Estella asked unsurely. The man's explanation thus far did little to appease her mind.

"Alas, I do not remember what happens when the wolf is in control." Remus stiffened slightly as though the thought of that disturbed him. Cupping either side of Estella's face, he crouched slightly so that their eyes were level. "But I assure you that all measures are taken to preserve the lives of the innocent. They are not a violent pack, the ones who have accepted my presence."

Estella nodded, a steady lump forming in her throat as she stood in awe and admiration of the man before her. Even after all he's seen, all he'd been through with the wolf of mind again, it touched her heart to see that he could be so gentle. Resolving then that the man before her would always be her godfather no matter what he did while undercover, she was oblivious to the lone tear that traced a path down her cheek.

"I love you, Uncle Remus," she whispered as his practiced hand deftly wiped away all evidence of her tear. "_Nothing_ could change that."

"Aw, shucks little lady," Remus drawled in an appalling Western accent, his eyes bright with his own unshed tears. "You always know what to say to bring a grown man to his knees."

Shaking her head at her godfather's aloof brand of humour, she chuckled dryly. "So, you staying here with Tonks are you now? Don't suppose that has anything to do with why you neglected to tell my father about you coming here, then?"

"You know full well that if I of all people could see reason to sneak off to see you, there would be nothing stopping him." Remus pointed out in a brief moment of sensibility. While Remus was slight and accustomed to blending into the shadows, unseen, Sirius lacked the finesse to remain anonymous in the field, and with him currently being sought after by the Department of Family Services for 'monitored assessment' they both knew how foolish it would be for him to come somewhere with such a saturated Ministry presence. Smirking, Remus continued. "I have to set a good example."

"Oh, and you're doing _such_ a great job!" Estella said mockingly, looking around the small one-room flat pointedly.

Leaning done to speak conspiringly in his goddaughter's ear, Remus cleared his throat. "Grown wizards, Estella," he whispered, his lip curling, "are more than capable of conjuring an extra bed."

"They are also capable of a whole lot more," said Estella suggestively. When Remus wheeled back to look at her in shock she smirked victoriously. "What?" she asked innocently. "With you AWOL when I'm seeing Dad every other weekend at meetings, who do I have to set an example for me?"

"Oh, I don't know, your uncle, perhaps?" said Remus, still unable to believe his ears.

"Oh, and I've always secretly aspired to wear heavy black robes and grease my hair!" drawled Estella. "And I've spent hours in the library looking for a spell that could make my nose like that but, you know what? When I really stop to think about it, I really do think that nose on my face would be really unbecoming."

Unable to help himself, Remus laughed heartily and commended his goddaughter on keeping a straight face. "Now that's music to my ears!" Tonks praised as she breezed into the room with a small bag of groceries. "Wotcher, baby cousin!"

"Too busy to get the shopping done, eh?" Estella asked suggestively in acknowledgement of her cousin's greeting.

"Oh, I've been run off my feet like you wouldn't believe!" Tonks sighed tiredly and made short work of packing away her meagre supplies into the small kitchenette.

"I think you'd be surprised by what I'd believe." Estella dead-panned, smirking at her godfather playfully. Tonks had yet to look at her face. "You eat out a lot then, I take it? Say, Moony, what are you doing for dinner?"

"Watch it, you!" Remus blushed at Estella's indirect questioning. Unsurprisingly, everything was going over Tonks' head, but having first seen this branch of humour in the child's father, Remus was more than familiar with the signs. Seeing Sirius' influence over his daughter gave him a sense of completion. That didn't mean he had to always like it. "Don't you have your own friendships to dissect?"

Estella's eyes widened in a mix of shock and guilt. Suddenly aware that she had just stood John up, her stomach fell. "Oh, crap!" she swore, and slapped herself in the head. Chancing a look out the window, where she could see the time on the clock tower, she blanched. "I was supposed to meet John _two hours ago_!"

Before she could act on remedying her mistake, the tiny window letting light into the small room imploded, sending tiny shards of glass flying into the room in all directions. Not having time to draw her wand, Estella was thrown back from the window by the force of the implosion, her hands instinctively flying up to protect her face as she barrelled into her godfather behind her, the pair of them landing in a heap on the floor. Tonks, meanwhile, had fallen backwards behind a bench, conveniently landing out of harm's way.

"What the hell was that!" Estella cried out, wincing as her movement caused the fine layer of glass dust on her body to irritate her skin. Noticing places on her arms where larger pieces of glass had penetrated the skin, she sucked in a breath. "Ow!"

Smelling the blood before he saw it, Remus froze. "Hold still!" he implored to the girl fallen against him as he pulled his wand out. "The glass on your skin will cut into you."

Having been away from the window when it exploded, Remus was unhurt. From the angle of where he had been standing, he had seen the slight shimmer of a curse headed for the window and was in the process of trying to shield his goddaughter when the glass shattered inches from her. Small as the room was, he'd just not been close enough to the child at the time, and could do little more than cushion her fall.

With a terse flick of his wand, Remus banished the glass, moving quickly once it was gone to assess Estella's injuries. Luckily, she had been turning away from the window when it smashed, and her reflexes had ensured that it was her hands and forearms that sustained injury and not her face. The rest of her, Remus suspected, had been protected by her cloak and the large clasp in her hair.

"Are you all right?" Tonks rushed over, muttering her discontent at the hooligans who got their jollies from smashing people's windows. "Remus, is she okay?"

"_She_," Estella said banefully, "just has a few scratches. Nothing a good soak in a bath full of potions won't fix. What _was_ that?"

"Probably just some of the local louts out terrorising the neighbourhood," Tonks frowned. "They've been smashing windows along the backstreets for weeks, though this is the first time they've hit around here."

"That's because it isn't them," Remus' head shot up as his sensitive hearing picked up the sound of screaming. By the time he had leapt to his feet and levelled his wand, Estella and Tonks could hear it too.

"Surely not!" Estella inched towards the window in disbelief.

"Estella!" Remus cried out in alarm and physically yanked Estella away from the window. Not that she'd been anywhere close enough to be in danger; the alert werewolf was simply slipping into protective mode. Looking from Estella, to the window, to the door, to Tonks and back again, he nodded decisively. "Portkey. Now."

Estella's mouth fell open. "No!" she protested, instantly trying to pull out of her godfather's reach and get to the door. "Harry's out there! He's probably alone with Cho, and she's completely useless! I'm not leaving him!"

"Estella! Activate your Portkey, _now_!" Remus shook her slightly. "We need to get out of here!"

"No!" Estella raised her chin defiantly. "I'm not a coward! I will not run and hide!"

"Estella!" Remus growled, and Estella didn't think she'd ever seen him looking so angry.

Faltering a little in her resolve, Estella's could only gape at her godfather in surprise. Before she could so much as confront him for answers, Remus suddenly pulled her to him, pinning her arms at her sides. Caught off guard by his wiry strength, Estella was powerless to act as he said four words that froze her to her core.

"I'll be right back," he promised Tonks before tightening his hold on the girl in his arms and Apparating her away.

* * *

Being appointed Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor did not preclude Severus from continuing his private potions research. Samples of blood he had taken from Estella early in the Summer had proved instrumental in mapping a blueprint for an antidote to the immune-suppressant potions Lucius Malfoy had tried to get Estella dependent on. Once term had began, he'd had little time to expand upon his research. Even though the school now had another certified Potions Master in residence, Severus knew he could not ask his former teacher and mentor to assist him. To do that would mean to admit to the man that he had abused his talents by creating such a terrible, cruel potion to begin with, and though Severus did not consider himself a man of vanity, even he had his pride.

Losing himself in the shimmery liquid as it simmered peacefully in its cauldron, Severus allowed his thoughts to drift to his niece, as they often did. After the incident surrounding Lucius' unannounced trip to the school, Severus had layered a number of security wards and alarms on his niece's person. Now, he would know when Estella ever activated the Portkey again, just as he would be able to sense the extremities of her emotion as they related to fear, anger, or physical pain.

The act of trying to tap into any other feelings, Severus thought, was not very mindful of his niece's right to privacy; and so he did only what would give him peace of mind. On some level, Severus almost wished he'd expanded the scope of the charm to be able to detect _other_ feelings. He knew of one boy who had asked her along to Hogsmeade, and had not been blind to the looks a few other students had given her. The child may not have been cut from a mould of stunning beauty, but she had charisma, and her wit and nonchalance around the opposite sex unwittingly drew them to her in droves. She wasn't like other girls her age, who would sit and giggle and be incapable of speech in the company of a boy. Severus knew that this was because she had grown up with men all around her, but it did nothing to help him accept the attention his niece was attracting.

"She doesn't even realise it!" he muttered, frowning, as a strange feeling pooled in the bottom of his gut. Initially unable to place the cause of the sudden discomfort, he jerked violently, sending the cauldron spiling to the floor as his eyes flew open in recognition. Estella had either just Flooed or been Apparated somewhere, for his connection to her suddenly felt more distant.

Without paying the spoiled potion on the floor any mind, the man was across the room and out the door. Perhaps more disturbing than his niece's unexpected departure from Hogsmeade, was the sharp stab of anger Severus had felt pulse through him before their connection stretched. Whatever the means of travel, it was apparent that Estella did not like it. Halfway up the staircase from the dungeons where he worked, Severus was in for yet another sickening surprise.

His Dark Mark was burning.

A/N: And you thought _last chapter_ was a cliff-hanger? evil look

Next Chapter: 11th April 2006


	15. Lest we Forget

Disclaimer: Nope, still not mine by _any_ stretch of the imagination…

Updated: Tuesday 11th April 2006

**Chapter Fifteen: Lest We Forget.**

Six Slytherins had been expelled after the 'attack'. An extremist group of purebloods from several of wizarding society's poorest, but darkest, families had seemingly acted alone in staging the 'raid'. While bigoted aristocrats could buy their way into the pompous Dark Lord's inner circle, the social under-classes had to work much harder. The students involved had defied both the law and their parents' wishes in taking an initiative their arrogant and foolishly inexperienced minds believed the Dark Lord was too cautious to take. They believed that, with the element of surprise, they would be victorious in their goal, and that their 'master' would reward them.

Positioned on the far end of Hogsmeade, off the main street, Madam Puddifoot's was tactically a most advantageous target. With most of the Aurors stationed in the vicinity of the more popular retailers and the 'designated congregation points', the rogue group very nearly came close to achieving their objective. One thing they didn't count on, however, was that the students within the quaint teahouse would be capable of mounting a defence, and that the delay and noise the disruption of flying curses caused was enough to draw the attention of law enforcement. In the end, they had no option but to surrender their wands, and while their unblemished forearms and age granted a reasonable doubt to their accountability, effectively saving them from a term in Azkaban, their noted disregard for school rules was adequate grounds for their dismissal.

Estella, meanwhile, was not to discover the nature of this 'threat' for quite some time. Disapparated to the unplottable safety of her parents' home, Estella was livid that she had once again been taken out of the equation by an over-protective adult. Now she was an Order member with actual battle experience she felt like doing more than just breaking a goblet of Wolfsbane. Despite his werewolf strength, Remus was having a spectacularly difficult time keeping a hold of the erratic child as he successfully Apparated them into the front hallway of their London home.

"Estella! Estella, calm down!" Remus hissed, struggling for breath as adrenalin rushed through is veins. "Were you trying to get us splinched?"

Before Estella could reply, Sirius appeared at the top of the stairs, his wand drawn and ready.

"Remus!" he exclaimed, lowering his hand in shock. "You really should let a man know you're coming ahead of time… Estella?"

Sirius had, by the time he'd finished his sentence, reached the bottom of the stairs and spotted his daughter. Looking from his friend, to his daughter in confusion, Sirius was suddenly gripped with fear. "Where's Harry?" he asked hesitantly, as though he really did not want to know the answer.

"HE LEFT HIM THERE!" Estella shouted, pulling herself out of Remus' lax grip and rounding on him in anger. "Hogsmeade is under attack and the first thing you can think about is getting _me_ out!"

"Why didn't you use your Portkey?" Sirius asked distractedly, the panic rising. "Why wasn't Harry with you?" then, as though he were spotting his friend for the first time, he blinked. "And Remus, what were you doing in Hogsmeade?"

A brief, annotated explanation of the day's events followed as Sirius concerned himself with summoning his broom and make-shift Auror Field Kit, preparing to leave. When Estella had refused to stay behind, threatening instead to activate one of the emergency Portkeys that she knew led to the cellar of Honeydukes, the two men had stopped in their tracks.

"Go, Remus," Sirius nodded to his friend to go ahead, indicating that he would take care of things. Turning his attention back to his daughter once his friend had Disapparated, he sighed. "This is not negotiable, Estella!" he said exasperatedly, torn between securing his daughter's well being and rushing blindly to Harry's aid. Shaking her forcefully, his worry for Harry making him impatient, he looked at her pleadingly. "Stay here!"

"No! I can help!" Estella protested, worming her way out of her father's grip. "Stop treating me like a child!"

"Then stop acting like one and do as you're told!" Sirius snapped back, his frustration at her non-compliance turning into anger as his mind entertained images of Harry being caught, tortured, or worse. Quietly, he hissed, "every moment you keep me here arguing with you is another moment Harry could be in danger!"

"Which is why you have to stop being so bloody stubborn and let me come!" Estella raised her chin defiantly, ignoring all laws pertaining to under-aged magic by drawing her wand and summoning her home supply of potions. Catching the kit deftly as it flew towards her from the kitchen and shrinking it, she then strode purposefully towards the Portkey she had threatened to use. Turning her back on her father, Estella had felt the effects of the jinx before her ears had even registered the traitorous words leaving her father's lips.

"Petrificus Totalus," Sirius whispered brokenly, wincing as his daughter's body dropped like a stone under the effects of the Body-Binding Spell. Side-stepping her prone form, he grabbed the innocent-looking Muggle magazine. "I'm sorry. We'll be back soon, I swear."

* * *

As relieved as Estella was that the disruption in Hogsmeade had not even been organised by actual Death Eaters, she could not yet bring herself to forgive her father for his actions just prior to his departure. The last person to have placed her in a Body Bind had been Lucius Malfoy, when he had taken her unconscious form to the graveyard for Voldemort's resurrection. The memories, then, of being completely helpless whilst surrounded by Death Eaters played at her mind as she lay in the empty house not knowing what was happening to the other members of her family.

The implication that they all could be in battle, dying, whilst she was powerless to do anything filled her with a frustration unlike anything she had ever felt before. As the minutes ticked by and her imagination conjured more and more outlandish scenarios, the fear for her family turned into sheer panic when she realised she was left completely vulnerable. Though she knew that her godfather would favour death over disclosing the location of the house he was Secret Keeper for, Estella could not remember what happened to a Fidelius Charm once its Secret Keeper was dead.

Picturing Hogsmeade razed to the ground, Death Eaters triumphant as they stood over the bodies of her family and friends, Estella imagined, rather than felt, the wards around her crumbling down. When then, the distinct 'pop' of Apparation reached her ears, she was completely frantic. Her eyes, frozen open and filled with tears she could not shed could were no longer able to discern shape from shadow. Unable to scream, Estella's breathing became erratic and choked as the confines of the Body-Bind restricted the movement in her chest. Fighting the light-headedness and dizziness that came from the onset of a panic attack, she was vaguely aware of the intruder's voice.

"Finite Incantatem!" said the voice, out of breath.

Distracted by the tingly feeling that signified the return of mobility to her limbs, Estella's mind was slow in recognising the owner of the voice. When she felt the person fall to their knees beside her, all capabilities of rational thought left her and she began to scream.

Pulling the disorientated, struggling girl into his embrace, Remus rocked her like an infant, his own senses overwhelmed by the scent of fear radiating from his beloved godchild and spurring him into action.

"Shhh… shhhh… Estella, it's me. It's Moony. It's all right!" he murmured into her ear, gratified when her muffled cries of terror turned into hysterical sobs. In his arms, he could feel the child relax in recognition and burrow her head into the folds of his robes. Remus smiled at the old familiar action. The act of 'disappearing into his robes' was something his godchild had attempted to do ever since she was an infant. The appearance that she was seemingly getting comfort from his scent had been what prompted him to start calling her his 'cub' all those years ago.

Leaning down and burying his face in her hair, Remus silently willed the lingering traces of fear to dissipate.

"Shhh, it's okay. It was just a couple of students. I came back as soon as I could! Oh Merlin, Estella, he was only doing what he thought was best… why must you be so stubborn?"

The effects of the Body-Bind – specifically, the memories it raised - far outweighed her earlier anger. Grasping blindly at her godfather's robes, Estella shook uncontrollably as she struggled to find comfort in the arms she had once found so assuring.

Another 'pop' echoed through the hallway.

"Sirius! Sirius, she's hysterical!" Remus looked up at the man in question as he appeared in the hallway, a tense, confused Harry at his side.

Swearing colourfully at his own stupidity and running a hand though his hair, Sirius looked around desperately for an answer. Squatting down to his daughter's level, he reached out hesitantly. "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry!" he said brokenly, not quite knowing why a simple Body-Bind had distraught his daughter so, but knowing that her condition was his fault.

In a surprising moment of clarity, Estella stiffened in her godfather's arms and turned to face her father. "Stay. Away. From. Me." she said in an icy tone, punctuating each word as she glared at her father with a betrayed look on her face. Then, spotting Harry in her peripheral vision, she visibly relaxed. Pulling herself up to her feet, swatting her father's hands away as he tried to help her, she brushed past the remorseful man coldly and focused her attentions on Harry.

"Thank goodness, you're all right!" she said, relieved, as she threw her arms around the bewildered boy, hugging him tightly. "What happened?"

After re-assuring herself of Harry's physical well-being, Estella once again clung to her godfather. The conversation now moving to the more comfortable environment of their sitting room, Remus held the exhausted girl close as she curled up against him on the couch, dozing slightly whilst the others talked. Sitting across from them on an armchair, Sirius' eyes barely left his daughter, and as he gripped the arms of his chair tightly, it looked as though he were about to jump out of his skin at a moment's notice.

"She'll come around, Padfoot," Remus whispered quietly, knowing from the steady breathing of the girl leaning against him that she was not of mind to hear them. "She knows, as well as I do that you were only trying to keep her safe."

"I should have just let her come," Sirius sighed. "She's already proven herself capable, and besides, it was only some stupid kids…"

"Don't give in to her, Sirius!" said Remus sharply. "Remember what Severus told you. She's not invincible. What if it _had_ been a real attack and you had allowed her to have her way? You would never have forgiven yourself if anything had happened. None of us could have anticipated how she would have reacted to being forced to stay behind. You mustn't beat yourself up about it."

"I'm her father, I _should_ have known!" said Sirius dejectedly. "She was terrified because of something _I_ did! Even if she can bring herself to forgive me… I don't know if I can forgive myself!"

Harry, who had been watching this exchange quietly from a rocker opposite his godfather, spoke up. "Remus is right, Sirius," he said. "You were acting on the spur of the moment. There wasn't time to consider other options. It was just like in first year when we had to Body-Bind Neville so he wouldn't tell McGonagall we were setting out to save the stone. We all felt awful doing it, but if we hadn't, McGonagall would have secured us in the Tower and Quirrel would have gotten the stone. She's probably just angry you left her behind at all –"

Remus nodded. "It was the lesser of two evils," he said, cutting Harry off. "I know it doesn't seem that way given that the events in Hogsmeade were a false alarm, but if it's any consolation, I don't know if I would have acted any differently, had it been me."

"Thanks, Moony," Sirius exhaled loudly. Noticing Harry watching his sleeping daughter with a comprehensive look on his face, he narrowed his eyes. "Harry?"

"I - I think I know why she reacted the way she did." Harry said quietly, his eyes not leaving the peacefully slumbering form of the girl in question. Taking a deep breath, he looked his godfather in the eye. "I think Malfoy had her in a Body Bind at the grave yard."

Sirius paled, and Remus unconsciously tightened his grip on the girl in his arms. Spotting their reaction, Harry scrambled for resolve.

"No, I mean, that's why this isn't your fault, Sirius!" he said unconvincingly. "She reacted this way because of something _Malfoy_ did, not you! Like Remus said, she knows you were only protecting her and would never do anything to hurt her… so she'll come around."

"I hope so," Sirius sighed as he looked at his daughter curled up against his childhood friend. Though he hardly felt as though he deserved it right now, a part of him silently wished that it could be him comforting her.

* * *

When Estella awoke an indeterminable period of time later, they were all still in the lounge room discussing the week's events. Her consciousness gone unnoticed by all except her godfather, who silently stroked the hair on her head in acknowledgement, Estella followed her godfather's lead and listened to the discussion quietly.

"Well, I know it can't be much fun when it hurts, but you remember what Dumbledore said at the meeting; it's not anything to really worry about." said Sirius, and Estella was quick to realise from Harry's body language that they were in the midst of discussing his scar. Her father continued. "It kept aching all last year, didn't it?"

"Yeah, and Dumbledore said it happened whenever Voldemort was feeling a powerful emotion," said Harry, rubbing said mark in consideration. "I guess he was feeling rather ticked off that the children of some of his followers decided to draw attention to themselves by staging an unauthorised attack. How on earth did he find out so quickly?"

"No doubt he has spies in Hogsmeade," Sirius grimaced. Gesturing towards Harry's scar, he continued, "and I am sorry to say that now he's back it's bound to hurt more often."

Harry thought this over for a moment. "But it hurt that time in detention… when… when Umbridge was touching me!" his eyes flew open. "Do you suppose…"

"I doubt it," said Sirius. Shifting slightly from where she was leaning against her godfather, so that she could hear better, Estella noted absently that the body she was cushioned against had stiffened slightly at the mention of the vile Ministry woman. The conversing occupants of the room still unaware of her being awake, she listened as her father continued. "I know her by reputation and I'm sure she's no Death Eater-"

"She's foul enough to be one," said Harry darkly. Estella, meanwhile, was thinking of how well her father had also professed to know Peter Pettigrew, but refrained from making a comment.

"Yes, but the world isn't split into good people and Death Eaters," said Sirius with a wry smile. "I know she's a nasty piece of work, though – you should hear Remus talk about her."

"You know her, Remus?" asked Harry quickly, and Estella found herself looking up at her godfather in question. They were both well aware of the woman's opinions of half-breeds.

"No," said Remus, cutting off any reaction Harry or Sirius might have had to noticing Estella was now awake. "But she drafted a bit of anti-werewolf legislation two years ago that makes it almost impossible for me to get a job in the Wizarding world…"

"That was _her_!" Estella sat upright, her face wearing an indignant scowl. "What's she got against werewolves?"

"Scared of them, I expect," said Sirius softly, smiling at his daughter's indignation. It was most endearing – when it wasn't directed towards him, of course. "Apparently she loathes part-humans; she campaigned to have merpeople rounded up and tagged last year, too. Imagine wasting your time and energy persecuting merpeople when there are little toerags like Kreacher on the loose."

Harry laughed, but Estella refused to acknowledge the joke. As though remembering that she was supposed to be mad at her father, she frowned and glared at him. "Remus is _not_ a part-human!" she said coolly.

"I _know_ that!" said Sirius exasperatedly. "I didn't mean it _that_ way… Estella, where are you going?"

Halfway through her father's attempt at reconciliation, Estella had risen from the couch and made to leave the room. Turning on her heel as she heard her father calling her back, she faced the occupants of the room and shook with barely-contained emotion.

"Uncle Remus, Harry…" she began politely, ignoring her father's presence entirely. "Please excuse me, but I do not feel like having company at the present time." Levelling her eyes at her father, her voice took on an accusatory tone. "I'll be in my room should another battle come up and you need to Stun me before throwing yourself into the frontline."

Without showing a flicker of recognition at her audience's flabbergasted looks, she spun and left the room, bound for the staircase. In her wake, the three males exchanged bewildered looks. "She's never going to let me forget it, is she?" Sirius cradled his head in his hands, all of them realising then that it was more than just the memories of Malfoy that had resulted in Estella's indignation at being left behind.

"It appears we have to accept the fact that she's growing up." Remus ran a weary hand over his face. "We cannot protect her forever."

"She's not even fourteen yet!" Sirius moaned. "I don't remember us having to grow up this fast!"

"Did Azkaban pickle your memory, Padfoot?" Remus quirked a brow. "We were only fifteen ourselves when Voldemort attacked Hogsmeade for the first time. I dare say we all grew up pretty quick after that!"

"But that… but that was different!" said Sirius.

"I don't like it any more than you do," Remus shook his head, smiling sadly at the look of reluctant comprehension on the face of the father before him. Both Estella and Harry were closer to being young adults than small children, and there was not point in denying it.

"It feels like twelve years in Azkaban never passed," said Sirius woefully. "Don't get me wrong, each day in that place dragged on forever… but the idea of time passing on the outside…"

"You expected to come out and find nothing had changed?" asked Remus quietly, picking up the thread when he noticed his friend's voice trail off.

"Yes… I mean, no –I knew everyone was getting older… everything was changing…" Sirius scrubbed at his face in frustration. "I just don't know… how do I… what do I…"

"Don't beat yourself up, Sirius," said Harry imploringly, looking slightly uncomfortable at the sight of his godfather's display of despondency. "You're doing loads better than the Dursleys, and you actually treat us like teenagers, unlike Mrs Weasley. So don't listen to Estella – she was just having a 'Snape moment'."

Unable to stop himself, Sirius barked out a laugh. "Merlin, don't let her hear you talking like that." Exchanging a mischievous look with his marauding friend, he cried mockingly. "We've failed, Moony! _His_ influence is still polluting her mind! Oh, woe!"

Marvelling at his friend's sudden shift in mood, Remus shook his head in mirth. "Just as well, my friend… just as well…"

"Well," Sirius said, rising to his feet decisively. There was no need to dwell on Severus' influence being a _good_ thing to his daughter. "Let's knock up some nosh, see if we might draw my progeny out of her 'dungeon'."

"I know just the thing!" said Remus, drawing his wand and bolting off towards the kitchen, no doubt to make a start on some dish that involved chocolate. Rolling their eyes at Remus' enthusiasm, Harry and Sirius shared a look before following.

Estella, however, didn't come down for dinner, even when Remus directed the aroma of his infamous chocolate pudding to waft into her room as it baked in the oven.

"She got a stash happening up there?" Sirius frowned, looking up at the ceiling in concern as they sat at the kitchen table, piles of empty dishes signally the end of an over-indulgent meal. Anything was better than staring painfully at his daughter's empty chair.

"She had…" Remus cast them a guilty look. "I was going to replace it before she came home for Christmas!"

"You and your cravings, Moony!" smirked Sirius. "You are worse than a pregnant woman!" Spotting the intrigued look on Harry's face, he elaborated. "Harry, your mother had a neurotic fixation for Cockroach Clusters like you wouldn't believe! We used to tease Prongs that he'd end up with a giant bug for a son…"

Remus chuckled in reminiscence. "We were lucky Lily and Selina weren't both pregnant at the same time! I never though it was possible for a woman to ingest that much Pumpkin Juice… it's a wonder Estella didn't come out orange!"

Time passed by, unnoticed, as the two Marauders indulged Harry with stories of his parents. Though she wasn't mentioned directly, it was silently understood that each of the three males in the room were inwardly focused on the lonely girl upstairs and what she was thinking. Hours later, when they were heading to bed for the night, Sirius checked in on his daughter to find her sleeping peacefully. Feeling a stab of regret for not resolving things with her before turning in, Sirius bemoaned the fact that both Harry and Estella were due to return to Hogwarts the following morning and as he closed his daughter's bedroom door behind him, he vowed to not let her leave until they had made their peace.

* * *

Estella awoke, refreshed from the measure of Dreamless Sleep Potion she had dosed herself with shortly after retiring to her room. She couldn't remember the last time she had relied on a potion-induced sleep, but she knew that if she stayed awake, she'd reach conclusions she didn't want to reach; likewise if she fell asleep again by herself, the dreams would come. Her mind was too alive with activity for her to attempt to clear her thoughts, and so the potion was the easiest choice.

With any luck, she'd wake up in her bed back at the school, and she could throw herself into her social activities and schoolwork and push the memories of what her father had done to the back of her mind. Waking instead, to find herself still in her room, the darkness concealing even the shadows telling her that it was still the dead of night, Estella flopped back on her pillows. Reading the time on her wristwatch – 2:37a.m. – she knew trying to sleep again that night was fruitless. With the emotion-induced doze she'd had on the couch after her family had returned from Hogsmeade, and the eight hours solid sleep that the potion had assured her, she was now wide awake.

And hungry.

"Bollocks!" Estella swore, throwing off her blankets and flinching as her bare feet hit the cool, draughty floorboards. Not only was she hungry, but she could distinctly smell the remnants of her godfather's delectable dessert permeating in the air. Her stomach growled in protest. "They'd better have left me some…"

Creeping out into the hallway, Estella was soundless as she made her way to the landing. Nimble feet artfully dodged the creaking floorboards and she concentrated on blending into the shadows. Sidling past her father's door, Estella could distinctly hear the sound of disturbed sleep. Guilt overwhelmed her when she realised that her father probably hadn't had the option of a potion and was instead, set to endure a restless night's sleep.

Making a decision, Estella drew her wand from a pocket of her dressing gown and pointed its tip in the direction of Harry and her godfather's rooms each in turn. Muttering a silencing charm – for she had, by now, ascertained that the monitoring of under-aged magic was largely a bluff by the Ministry since she'd not received warning for using the Summoning Charm earlier – she cracked her father's door ajar slightly and tiptoed down the stairs.

* * *

When next Sirius woke from yet another troubled dream, it was to the sound of soft notes tickling his ears. Echoes of a memory filtered into conscious thought as he shook the remnants of sleep from his mind. The long-forgotten tune chorused a triumphant song in his heart when he realised that there was another piece of his past that the Dementors didn't take aware from him entirely.

"Selina," he murmured sleepily, smiling softly to himself. When he realised that the sound was not just a lingering manifestation from the land between sleep and wake, he bolted upright.

Scratching at his scalp in confusion, rendering his hair, already mussed from sleep into an even bigger mess, Sirius tried to grasp onto reality. His mind catching up with the events of the day previously, he exhaled softly when he remembered that his daughter was making an unscheduled visit and it was likely her playing. Absently trying to recall the last time he had heard his daughter play, Sirius frowned at the clock and reached for a shirt. Pulling the soft, worn Muggle cotton over his head as he blindly toed on his slippers, Sirius staggered sleepily across the room and headed for the door.

Mussing his hair again as he shuffled into the lounge room, he stood at a stand-still when his eyes caught sight of his daughter's profile behind the piano. From where he stood in the doorway, behind the oblivious child, the resemblance to her mother was uncanny. Sirius had to steady himself against the wooden doorframe as the sight stirred recollections in his mind. The instance of her mother whittling away the small hours of the night, playing _that_ song as the unborn child inside of her was stirring drew a surreal parallel to that very child's actions now. It both warmed and pained Sirius that, though their daughter never truly met her mother, she was so like the woman in many ways.

"Am I interrupting?" Sirius cleared his throat, letting his presence be known when Estella paused between sets.

"Took you long enough," said Estella, turning her head slightly to look at her father from the corner of her eye.

Overcome with awkwardness as the memory of the afternoon's events cast a dark shadow over them, Sirius faltered in his step.

"Can… can I come in?" he asked humbly, gesturing hesitantly towards a nearby chair.

"Your house," Estella shrugged, the slightest edge to her voice. Sighing, she shook her head in self-admonishment and adjusted her tone. "I'm sorry, come in."

"Can't sleep?" asked Sirius, scrambling to find neutral territory as he resisted the urge to sit next to Estella on the long piano bench and instead perching himself awkwardly on the back of a nearby armchair.

"I've already had my sleep," Estella confessed. "I kinda took a potion when I went upstairs earlier."

"Ah, so that's how you were able to resist the smell of Moony's specialty?" Sirius smirked. "We'll have to let him know that he hasn't lost his touch."

"Oh, I think he'll get the picture when he looks for the left-overs in the morning," Estella nodded towards an empty bowl on the side table and favoured her father with a coy look. "Sorry, would have left you some, but you took too long and I was hungry."

"Play some more?" said Sirius shyly, trying to put an end to the meaningless small talk they had both resorted to. It was too painful to talk about food and other such incidentals when there remained a cavernous gap between them. Shifting more of his weight on to the chair he was leaning against, Sirius pondered how best to approach 'the incident' as Estella immersed herself in a piece by Chopin. So caught up in his thoughts was he, that he did not realise when the chair behind him started to shift under his weight, and he fell back with a loud crash.

Jumping up in alarm, Estella stopped her playing abruptly and rushed to her father's assistance.

"Merlin! Dad, are you all right?" Estella's face was wrought with worry as she crouched down next to her father, who was sprawled on the floor. Upon seeing his daughter's uninhibited compassion – even after all he had done – Sirius' eyes began to burn.

Misinterpreting his distress as pain, Estella's brow furrowed and she worried her lower lip between her teeth.

"I'd call for Moony, but I kinda spelled his door so he couldn't hear…" her voice trailed off and she busied herself with fixing a fallen cushion under her father's head. Sirius could only lay there and watch her dumbly. Noting his vacant expression, her frown deepened when he failed to reprimand her for her use of under-aged magic. "Dad, are you all right? Are you hurt? Dad, say something!"

"I'm sorry!" Sirius blurted, sitting up so quickly he almost knocked heads with Estella. Looking her in the eye now, he fumbled around until he had her small hands clasped in his own. "I'm so sorry. I didn't think… I didn't realise… remember…"

Resisting the hold her father had on her hands, she relaxed when she realised Sirius wasn't about to let go.

"Do you have any idea, any at all…" she as no longer able to talk on account of the lump forming in her throat. Turning her head to the side, she avoided her father's eyes and blinked furiously, lest she allow her tears to fall. Clearing her throat, she continued; "I hadn't felt that terrified since… since…"

"Estella," Sirius managed, his own voice thick with emotion. Grasping her chin gently to turn her head to face him, he sought eye contact. "Estella, look at me, please…" the matching pools of grey reflected equal pain and regret as they met. Catching a tear as it fell down her cheek, Sirius tried to blink his own tears away, but failed. "Sweetheart, I would do anything to take back what I did…"

"But you can't," said Estella flatly.

"It won't happen again." said Sirius resolutely.

"It better not," Estella nodded firmly in acceptance before lowering her gaze. "I owe you an apology too… I still think you could have handled it differently, but I acknowledge that there wasn't really time for either of us to think rationally. You only wanted to make sure I would be safe, and that I held you up so, Harry could have been seriously hurt and it would have been my fault and if anything had happened…"

"Estella, stop. It's over." Sirius cut her off softly. "Time to learn and move on."

"No, it's not." Estella shook her head. "I should have listened to you. I held things up unnecessarily. I have to learn that I can't be involved in everything… I have to… have to trust you when you are doing the right thing."

"Estella, what I did was not right-"

"Body-Binding me, yes, that was wrong," Estella acknowledged. "But you were right to make me stay. I was just so worried that something… something would happen to you if I wasn't there to help…"

"Estella, sweetheart," Sirius tilted her chin up again. "We've been through this before…"

Indeed, they had spend a good part of the beginning of summer arguing about chivalry and a father's instinct to lay his life on the line for his family. With a sigh, Sirius realised that his daughter still disagreed.

"But I… well, both Harry and me… we just got you back!" said Estella. "I just can't understand how you can talk so openly about going off to battle and getting yourself killed. What happens after you've gone, huh? When there's no one left… and I'm all alone when… when…"

Pulling his daughter into a hug, Sirius began to understand the root of her fear. It wasn't so much about the events in the graveyard, or even that Estella had been so defenceless as she had lain there in the Body Bind; but rather it was the unmistakable fear of having to face danger _alone_. With a shudder, Sirius realised that his daughter had already confronted the likes of Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy… and even a untamed werewolf… by herself; he had been nowhere in sight. Remembering too, how his own wife had been left to die alone, Sirius felt like a miserable failure. Tightening his grip on her, he buried his face in her hair and wept; muttering incoherent words of apology and promise. He realised with a sudden clarity that he had perhaps overestimated his daughter's resilience. Resourceful, rational and methodical his daughter may be, but a Gryffindor she was not. It was not to say his child was not courageous – but rather it was an acknowledgement that she was still a child, and no child should ever have had to face such horrors alone.

"I promise…" he said firmly. "I promise you'll never be alone again."

"You can't promise that," said Estella sadly. "But I appreciate the sentiment."

Kissing the top of his daughter's head, Sirius chuckled mirthlessly.

"You're too smart for your own good sometimes," he said. "But let's just concentrate on the here and now, mmm?"

* * *

When Remus stumbled downstairs the next morning, he was touched to find father and daughter asleep on the couch with their feet elevated on the coffee table amidst a mess of food scraps and cling-film. Spotting the scatter of music sheets around the piano, he glanced back the way he came and pondered how heavily he had just slept. Surmising that someone had gone to lengths to ensure he wouldn't wake during the night, Remus set himself the unenviable task of waking up the other occupants of the house.

The barest touch on a shoulder stirred Sirius from sleep. Recognising his daughter's form nestled against him, still asleep, he was careful not to make any sudden movements. Craning his neck slightly to see who had awoken him, he was met with the expectant gaze of his friend.

"It's a little before seven," Remus answered when he noticed his friend look out the window in question. It was not quite dawn. "Albus wants the kids back at the school before breakfast, remember?"

In all the confusion from the 'attack' of Hogsmeade, it had been possible to keep Estella and Harry away from the school temporarily. The Headmaster hadn't particularly liked the idea, but Sirius was not one to be argued with. Though the attack may have been executed by a collection of misguided students too afraid to do any real damage, Harry had been their target; when the boy had collapsed because of his scar, Sirius had insisted on keeping both teenagers secure until the authorities could determine whether or not the students had truly acted alone.

"Is Harry awake?" Sirius yawned, mentally calculating that he'd only fallen asleep three hours earlier.

"I haven't checked, but I heard him moving about above me when I was coming down the hall," said Remus. "Say, you didn't place a Silencing Charm around my room last night, did you?"

"No, that was Estella," Sirius frowned. "She got a jump on me on that one. I was nearly sixteen before I figured out the Ministry's bluff."

"It's a stupid law anyway," he added defensively, scowling at Remus' pointed look. He was not about to chastise his child for using magic within the walls of her own home. "Besides, she knows better than to run off doing tricks in front of Muggles, and that's the whole point of the law, isn't it? To teach young people restraint?"

Remus shrugged, feeling rather disinclined to enter into a philosophical discussion at such an early hour.

"I'll go put on some coffee if you'll make yourself useful and round up the kids."

"Has anyone told you recently that you sound like an old, nagging wife?" Estella opened one eye and tilted her head upwards to grin sleepily at her godfather. "It's enough to wake up a bear from hibernation!"

"That's what I get for sharing a dorm with your father for seven years," Remus quipped back, not missing a beat.

"It's a crime for anyone to be this sharp so early in the morning," Sirius growled, lowering his legs from the coffee table and standing. Raising his arms over his head, he stretched lazily before helping his daughter up. "C'mon, let's go see what's keeping Harry."

* * *

Choosing to wait to have breakfast with her friends in the Great Hall, Estella decided, was a bad idea. The fall out from the 'attack' the day before had the entire school talking and certain little things she had overlooked were destined to come back and haunt her.

"John!" she half-whispered, freezing in her step as she saw the sullen-looking boy sitting alone at the Ravenclaw table. Before she could turn and avoid being seen, he looked up and narrowed his eyes at her. Suddenly, the realisation that she'd accidentally stood him up the day before and had been removed from Hogsmeade before being able to make amends hit her like a Bludger and she winced. To make matters worse, the Slytherin students had targeted Madam Puddifoot's in their plight to get to Harry, and that was where John would have been waiting for her, alone. Overwhelmed with guilt, she made her way over to him, head bowed.

"John…" she started, unable to look the dejected boy in the face. "I…"

"I don't want to hear it." John said coolly, cutting her off without even looking up from his bowl. "If you didn't want to go out with me so much, you could have just said no…"

"John! It's not like that… it's-"

"Estella, I said I don't want to hear it!" he looked up at her finally, anger, pain and restraint flickering in his eyes. "Not now… not while I may say something I'll regret…"

Estella's mouth flew open in dismay, but before she could counter his statement with another heartfelt apology, she was interrupted by an unwelcome presence behind her.

"Estella," Draco Malfoy's voice beckoned her with sickening congeniality.

"What, Draco?" she snapped, spinning around and lashing out at the boy for what she suspected – by the Slytherin's look of surprise at least – was the first time.

Draco stepped back and held open his palms in defeat. "Excuse me for interrupting, I was just relieved to see that you were all right," he said with a sincerity that Estella had difficulty trying to discredit. "A lot's happened since you've been gone-"

"Gone?" Estella cut in. "I haven't _gone_ anywhere!"

"I beg to differ." Draco was back to his old, self-assured self, and Estella didn't know if she wanted to slap the smirk off his face or hex it to stay until it hurt. "Your father made a spectacular scene of Disapparating his godson out of the line of danger, and neither you nor Scarhead were anywhere to be seen last night. It's a natural conclusion to draw that you had been taken out of Hogsmeade too; and since one cannot Apparate into Hogwarts…"

Behind her, Draco met John's eyes pointedly, causing the Ravenclaw boy to regret his earlier words and understand Estella's absence the day before. Following the blond boy's gaze, Estella exchanged a look with John before levelling her eyes at her 'cousin'.

"No offence, Draco, but what do you want?" asked Estella tiredly. "I'm hungry and John and I were kind of in the middle of something."

"My parents were right," said Draco, a slightly hurt tone in his voice. "Your father's influence is unbecoming of you."

"What do you mean by that?" Estella rounded on the boy fully.

"Not to dismiss your mother's judgement, of course…" Draco relented. "Though it does seem apparent that your father's stay in Azkaban had an undesirable effect on him;" - he held up a hand to silence her protests – "Think of me what you will, Estella, but know that I've been concerned for you ever since that day in Diagon Alley. My father is not a gentle man, but he at least can control himself in public… I dread to think what your father is like in _private_."

"Wait, you think… you actually think?" Estella spluttered at the implications behind Draco's misguided sentiment.

"Whether or not it is true, Estella, is irrelevant. Suffice it to say, however, I am not the only one who is concerned." Draco inclined his head and stepped back. "I see that now is not a good time to enter into this discussion with you, so if you'd excuse me… I only wished to assure myself that you were all right after this weekend's events."

"Yes, so you keep saying…" said Estella distractedly, trying to determine a motive for Draco's behaviour. Thanking him quietly, she let out a sigh of relief when he made his way to his own table, making room for Estella's other friends as they arrived in his wake. Settling down to breakfast – she had not been lying when she had said she was hungry – Estella could almost forget the bizarre interlude that had just occurred and comprehend the strange amnesty John was now extending towards her.

The Great Hall was relaxed on Sunday, with breakfast a rather casual affair as people came and went at their leisure. The tables, however, were unusually full this morning as the morning post arrived. If Estella didn't know any better, it was almost as though they were anticipating something. Accepting her copy of the _Daily Prophet_ from the beak of a screech owl, she pushed a Knut into its leather pouch and, like many of the Ravenclaws around her, disappeared behind the folded pages of parchment.

"Anything interesting?" asked John, who, preoccupied with his hard-boiled egg, had not bothered to open his paper yet. Estella suspected he had neglected his paper deliberately so as to have something to talk to her about.

"No," she sighed, "just some guff about the bass player in the Weird Sisters getting married."

Not one for the trumped up, often inaccurate propaganda the _Daily Prophet_ splashed across its front pages, Estella had turned straight to the entertainment section out of habit. Many would argue that the fallacious rhetoric of the _Daily Prophet_'s primary investigative reporter, Rita Skeeter, was just as entertaining. Turning to the front page anyway as she reached for her goblet of Pumpkin Juice, Estella let out a gasp and spilled her drink when she saw the headline.

"What's happened?" asked Reg, who looked up from the Quidditch page in question before fossicking for the front page of his own paper. "Oh!"

The table sat in silence for the next few minutes, the frantic rustling of papers signally that its occupants were absorbing the recent developments. Estella tore her eyes away from the large photo of Dolores Umbridge smiling widely up at her from the front page of the paper, and read the headline.

MINISTRY SEEKS EDUCATIONAL REFORM

_DOLORES UMBRIDGE APPOINTED_

FIRST EVER HIGH INQUISITOR

"Umbridge – _High Inquisitor_?" someone muttered, the sounds of half-eaten toast falling onto plates as the students at the Ravenclaw table read on.

_In a surprise move last night the Ministry of Magic passed new legislation giving itself an unprecedented level of control at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

'_The Minister has been growing uneasy about goings-on at Hogwarts for some time,' said Junior Assistant to the Minister, Percy Weasley. 'He is now responding to concerns voiced by anxious parents, who feel the school may be moving in a direction they do not approve of.'_

_This is not the first time in recent weeks that the Minister, Rufus Scrimgeour, has used new laws to effect improvements at the wizarding school. As recently as 30th August, Educational Decree Number Twenty-three was passed, to ensure that the Ministry was gainfully represented amongst the alumni of all educational facilities._

'_That's how Dolores Umbridge came to be appointed to the staff at Hogwarts,' said Weasley last night. 'Letting the young people of Hogwarts know that the Ministry is there to look out for them has been a high priority for Minister Scrimgeour. Judging by the enthusiastic welcome the students paid to Ms Umbridge, it is clear that such a liaison was long overdue-_

"Enthusiastic welcome?" a disgruntled reader scoffed loudly in disbelief. Snorting quietly in agreement, Estella continued reading:

'_-it is clear that such a liaison was long overdue; and it is based on the on-the-ground feedback the Minister has since become privy to that have prompted this new legislation.'_

_It is this last function that the Ministry has now formalised with the passing of Educational Decree Number Twenty-three, which creates the new position of Hogwarts High Inquisitor. _

'_This is an exciting new phase in the Minister's plan to get to grips with what some are calling the falling standards at Hogwarts,' said Weasley. 'The Inquisitor will have powers to inspect the school's educators and make sure that they are coming up to scratch.'_

_The new moves have received enthusiastic support from parents of students at Hogwarts. _

'_I feel much easier in my mind now that I know Dumbledore is being subjected to fair and objective evaluation,' said Mr Lucius Malfoy, 41, speaking from his Wiltshire mansion last night. 'Many of us with our children's best interests at heart have been concerned about some of Dumbledore's eccentric decisions in the last few years and are glad to know that the Ministry is keeping an eye on the situation.'_

_Among those eccentric decisions are undoubtedly the controversial staff appointments previously described in this newspaper, which have included the employment of werewolf Remus Lupin, half-giant Rubeus Hagrid and delusional ex-Auror, "Mad-Eye" Moody._

_Perhaps of even more controversial, immediate relevance, was Dumbledore's noted disregard for the Minister's advice that the student's Hogsmeade trips be cancelled. In the wake of yesterday's 'attack' (for further details, please see page two) rumours have begun to circulate that Albus Dumbledore, once Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, is no longer up to the task of managing the prestigious school of Hogwarts._

'_I think the appointment of an Inquisitor is a first step towards ensuring that Hogwarts has a headmaster in whom we can all repose our confidence,' said a Ministry insider last night._

_Also central to this move, is the lack of concern the influential veteran has exhibited towards the documented behaviour of the wrongly-accused Sirius Black. Black, 37, of undisclosed address was cleared of all charges laid against him in June after the capture of Peter Pettigrew, whose grisly murder Black had been charged with in November 1981. Since his pardon and public apology was administered by the Ministry's former administration (along with a sizable monetary compensation said to figure in the hundreds of thousands of Galleons) Black is said to have been enjoying a quiet existence with his daughter and godson, whom we all know better as the Boy-Who-Lived._

_While both children are said to be in good health and fitting in well amongst their classmates at Hogwarts, questions have arisen as to the kind of home life Black is able to provide. Following reports of abuse by several noted members of wizarding society, and the recent assault of a Ministry official by a man bearing Black's description, specialists at St Mungo's have begun to speculate that despite his innocence, after twelve years in Azkaban, Sirius Black may not be of mentally sound mind to raise children. Attempts to track down Sirius Black's whereabouts have been circumvented by Albus Dumbledore, who maintains that the allegations against his former student are without merit._

'_Estella Black thrived under the ministrations of her uncle,' Narcissa Malfoy, herself a Black, said last night when interviewed alongside her husband. 'I fashioned myself as a surrogate mother to the poor child, and now Sirius refuses to allow me to see her. All I have are a few photographs of happier times…'_

_Estella's uncle, Severus Snape, Potions Master of Hogwarts, could not be reached for comment but former colleagues say that he has always maintained a volatile relationship with his brother-in-law. Snape is understood to have single-handedly raised the girl since infancy, following the death of his sister, Selina, in childbirth._

'_I'm very concerned for Estella's welfare,' a close friend of Estella's confided to our reporter. 'I tried talking to her recently and witnessed her father physically reprimand her for coming near me. It pains me that she may be too scared to lodge a formal complaint… I'd be scared too if my father was so unbalanced as to permit a werewolf to live under the same roof as me.'_

_The newly appointed High Inquisitor for Hogwarts has made it one of her first objectives to secure a true and accurate assessment of the school's less fortunate students._

'_I was mortified to hear that Sirius Black had opened his home to a werewolf,' Ms Umbridge said in a statement released yesterday. 'For too long Hogwarts has turned a blind eye to the kind of home lives its students have. That any child should have to grow up in such a dangerous environment is abhorrent, even more so when one of the children in particular is so very dear to us all.'_

_Umbridge was of course referring to Black's godson, Harry Potter, whereupon further investigation, more evidence of Albus Dumbledore's poor judgement can be counted. _

'_His Muggle aunt and uncle didn't think much of magic,' an undisclosed source revealed. 'Kept him locked in a cupboard, mostly. Them's the rumours. Not a day goes by when I didn't ask meself what Dumbledore was thinkin' leaving the boy with those Muggles – what, when there was a much nicer lot amongst wizards willin' to adopt the little nipper…'_

_To participate in our reader's poll, 'Should an ex-prisoner of Azkaban be permitted to raise children?' read the editorial by our resident medical expert on page 27 and send us a Howler with your opinion. For further discussion on the Ministry's intervention at Hogwarts, be sure to listen to tonight's 'Nightly Prophet' talk-back show on WWN at 7pm GMT. _

Estella lowered the page in disgust and blanched. All around her, she could just _feel_ eyes staring at her. Ignoring the sympathetic looks of her friends, she glanced up at her uncle at the head table, trying to discern if he had read the article. Unable to read anything from his expressionless mask, at this distance at least, she looked towards the Gryffindor table, where she could see Harry being consoled by his friends, his back to her. Her gaze drifting by the Slytherin table as she surveyed the room one last time, she caught the eye of Draco, who was looking at her pointedly. Comparing his words to her earlier with the quote in the paper, Estella narrowed her eyes in contempt before looking away.

Returning her attention to her breakfast, Estella was unsurprised to find that she had lost her appetite. Tuning out of the small talk around her, she concentrated on picking apart the article in her mind, trying to anticipate the consequences of the slanderous piece. When it all finally became too much to handle, she excused herself quietly and exited the Great Hall. Heading towards the stairwell that led to the lower levels of the castle, Estella let her mind wander as she traced the familiar path to her uncle's quarters. The exclusive tower hideaway that the headmaster had provided for her Order research could only be accessed from one of three Floo connections in the school, and Estella could think of no other place she'd rather be at that moment.

The first thing Estella noticed upon entering the private little nook legend suggested Rowena Ravenclaw had first set aside for herself, was the addition of a rather large piece of furniture. Recognising the dusty old upright piano immediately, her eyes were drawn directly to a folded-up piece of parchment resting on the music stand. Sitting down at the bench she had last sat on with the teenaged version of her mother beside her, Estella turned the note over n her hands and smiled. Trust her father to have the House Elves move the instrument somewhere she'd be inclined to use it. Dismissing the idle thought that her father's newfound interest in having her practice stemmed from the likeness to her mother that he had said she'd exhibited the other night, Estella tucked the note into a pocket of her robe and tested a few notes to see if it was in tune.

"I thought I would find you here," a familiar voice said from behind her, the silhouette of a figure emerging from the fire, casting a tell-tale shadow on the wall she was facing.

Estella needn't have turned around. Even if the person hadn't spoken, she knew that there were only two people present in the school who could enter the concealed room without being accompanied by either the Headmaster or herself; and of those two, only one would have cause to seek her out.

"Good morning, Uncle Sev," she sighed, swivelling on the bench to face her former guardian.

"You are playing again?" Severus eyed the piano warily. Estella shrugged and moved over, patting the bench next to her. Without inhibition, Severus crossed the circular room in three strides and sat on the bench, facing the piano. When Estella made no move to turn around, he rested his fingers on the slightly dusty keys, momentarily lost in a memory of the lessons he'd given not so long ago. It was most disheartening how much things could change within such a short period of time. Recognising the sign when Estella shuffled forward to rest her head on his shoulder, Severus began to play softly, his chest swelling with an all too familiar pain.

Filled with an innate sense of peace as he felt his niece relax against him, Severus reflected on their unusual relationship. Very few people were ever exposed to this almost tender side of him. Severus was grateful, however, that when in such a mood, no words need be exchanged. It was apparent that Estella turned to music as a refuge, and if indulging her some Brahms after breakfast would keep her away from the infernal Muggle music box her godfather had given her to assault her ears with, Severus was not going to deny her.

"Why does it always happen to us?" she asked quietly, shifting back so that she could look her uncle in the eye.

"Self-pity is unbecoming," said Severus gently, not moving his eyes from the empty music stand before him. "Do not spend your time dwelling on that which you cannot change."

"But-"

Severus stilled his hands on the keys. "You've been in the company of Gryffindors too long, Estella," said Severus resignedly. "Your preoccupation with getting things your way has blinded you to the virtues of compromise."

"When God gives you lemons, make lemonade, eh?" Estella smirked slightly, the curl in her lips becoming more defined when she saw the disgruntled look on her uncle's face – he did not appreciate the simplicity of Muggle analogies.

Sobering at the man's hesitant nod, she gazed down at her lap, her hands picking at a loose thread in her robes. "You're right, of course. It just frustrates me, that's all… Merlin help me if I have to be in a room alone with _that woman_ anytime soon!"

"You will control your temper, Estella Black!" said Severus in a voice not to be argued with. "You will find, like your father before you, that succumbing to your baser urges will not bear good tidings. To the contrary, if history serves…"

Estella slumped and sighed. "I know, I know…" she straightened suddenly. "Could you tutor me again? In Defence, I mean? Your classes are great, but I think I need something… more… to direct my energies on."

"Play Quidditch," said Severus dryly, casting his niece a sidelong look as he deployed a wry humour very few could understand. "Your mother got much satisfaction at sending Bludgers hurtling through my bedroom window when I crossed her."

Rolling her eyes, Estella grinned. "S'pose that's why you opted for quarters in the dungeons then, huh?" she said. "What would you do if I said that was a brilliant idea?"

"I'd remind you that Quidditch try-outs have been and gone and you'd be better placed investing your time in extra Defence lessons instead."

"Really? You'll help me practice?" Estella momentarily forgot her prior concerns. "Can I learn non-verbal spells? Please?"

"Unfortunately, we'll be limited to the curriculum I'd prefer to be teaching the entire class." At his niece's questioning look, he elaborated. "If you cared to look past the Ministry's designs for your father, you will have noted the control over the syllabus the new provisions have given Dolores Umbridge."

"Surely the Ministry would not try to water down-"

"There are certain elements in the Ministry who appear to underestimate the risk this war will pose on children," said Severus. "In making children defenceless, by restricting what they can learn in my class to the purely theoretical, it is hoped that students will step back and let adults protect them rather than overestimating their ability and pushing themselves into the frontline."

"That's so twisted!" Estella exclaimed. "Taking us out of the equation by depriving us of knowledge won't keep us safe! Adults can't be everywhere!"

"Which is why I merit the suggestion to give you additional tuition," said Severus simply.

"But what about everyone else?" Estella was incredulous. "You're their teacher!"

"-and you're my family." finished Severus. "Are you questioning my priorities?" Noticing her eyes narrow, he sighed. "If the parents do not like the methods the Ministry prescribes, they are free to have their children privately tutored. I can only operate under within the guidelines the High Inquisitor provides."

Noting the bitter tone in her uncle's voice, Estella relented. She didn't like the idea of students – particularly Muggleborns with no access to outside help – being deprived of practical methods to defend themselves, but all she could afford to do at present was take it in her stride. In the short time she had been a member of the Order, Estella knew that adults faced much greater consequences for breaking the rules and with her father's suitability as a guardian under the microscope, she knew that her uncle probably felt as though he couldn't step a foot wrong. Seeing the need for some levity, she quirked a brow.

"I imagine Professor Flitwick was unimpressed by the impositions," said Estella, knowing firsthand how passionate the Ravenclaw Head of House was about learning.

"Indeed," said Severus, not willing to give anything away about his colleague's rather _unique_ reaction. What happened in the staff room, _stayed_ in the staff room.

"So what are we supposed to do in Defence Against the Dark Arts now?" she asked conversationally.

"Read," said her uncle simply.

"Oh excellent," Estella drawled. "We'll be the best prepared students if ever the books in the library decide to maul us!"

As though suddenly remembering something important, Estella stiffened slightly, causing Severus to stop tinkling at the keys idly. Leaning back slightly to regard her with an expectant look, he waited for her to voice her concern.

"I was sorry to hear about those students getting expelled from your house," said Estella quietly, cringing when she saw her uncle set his jaw in response.

"Do not apologise for what you are not at fault," said Severus firmly, his dark eyes staring past her to focus on an anonymous point on the wall.

Moving her head so that she could look her uncle in the eye, Estella frowned. "Do not feel guilt for that which you have no control," she responded, just as firmly.

Severus stared at his niece calculatingly before nodding once, an unspoken absolution passing between them.

"So, who were they?" she asked curiously. "Is there anything I can do? You know Draco approached me at breakfast, I could-"

"No." Severus said quickly, grabbing her upper arm gently as though she were about to physically enact what she was talking about. "You will not go looking for trouble…" his voice took on a distant quality as he once again looked over her head, his mind lost in thought; "it has enough luck finding you." He took a deep breath, and his eyes refocused as he explained who the expelled students were.

"I hope you don't blame yourself," Estella reiterated once her uncle had finished. "A House master can only do so much and I for one think you make a brilliant Head of House."

"How could you possibly know that?" Severus raised a brow, his curiosity shattering his mask of indifference. "You are not a Slytherin."

"Stating the obvious, much?" Estella rolled her eyes. "I know what you're thinking, I'm your niece, and so I can't help but be bias. Maybe that's true… but think of it this way: on one hand we have Professor Sprout who positively _coddles_ her Hufflepuffs and buries her head in the sand like one of her precious plants…" – she smiled slightly when her uncle didn't object – "… Professor McGonagall thinks the sun shines out of the Headmaster's arse and is generally unapproachable by her house in that stern old woman way of hers…"

"Professor Flitwick?" Severus raised a brow.

"If only you knew what the Ravenclaws said behind his back," said Estella, making no means to reveal House secrets. "Don't get me wrong, he commands a lot of respect and is quite knowledgeable, but c'mon, what student in their right mind would ever take him seriously? I know we mustn't discriminate on the grounds of physical stature, but it's a conditioned reflex to infantilise those shorter than us. Why else do you think he stands on a ladder to teach? A simple summoning charm would beckon whatever materials he'd need to retrieve from a height, and I've never see _you_ physically write on a blackboard…"

"And how do the _short_comings of the other House masters reflect on my abilities?" asked Severus. "I'm widely known by the school population as… what is it… a greasy git?"

"A mere physicality," said Estella dismissively. "The students of the other houses don't appreciate how you are with the students of your own house because you don't go out of your way to treat all students that way. People only see what they want to see."

"And what makes you think that you're not just seeing-"

"Because I've heard how the Slytherins talk about you. I've seen how they look at you while you give your start of term address in the common room. Take it from someone who keeps her ear to the ground on a student level – people may revere you and outright fear you even, but you can bet that at one point or another, they've wondered what you're like as a Head of House." she endeavoured to explain. "When the Hufflepuffs look at Sprout, they see an unwanted mother substitute. The Gryffindors are alienated from McGonagall because she is also the Deputy Headmistress… and the people in my house can't even look Flitwick in the eye. Trust me when I say that the Slytherins are unique in seeing a leader with such strength of character."

His black eyes glistening, Severus could do nothing but stare at his niece searchingly. Just what could you say to that?

"I hope this doesn't mean that I should take the charms off my hair…" he said bluntly, catching Estella off guard.

If it were possibly for a jaw to hit the floor a little over four feet from the ground, Estella's would have done so at that moment.

"You… you… Uncle Sev… were you cracking a _joke_?" She giggled, inwardly whooping for joy when her uncle returned the favour with a small smile. Her chuckles escalating into unrestrained laughter, she lost balance on the bench suddenly and fell to the floor.

Severus smirked slightly and held out his hand for his niece to pull herself up. "Now, to think how a single-minded _Gryffindor_ would react…" he mused aloud.

Before Estella could comment, her hand flew out of his grip, causing her to fly backwards onto the floor.

"Ow!" she clutched at her side, her hand hovering over an omniscient bulge in the pocket to her robes. "Bloody hell!"

Severus, in turn, was just about to chide his niece on her language when he watched her pull a small mirror out of her pocket and glare at it.

"What?" she asked her reflection. "You know I always keep it on me, couldn't you take a hint?"

What, or _who_ Estella was talking to, Severus did not know. From his vantage point, it looked as though she was listening to a response; and his suspicions were answered when she spoke again.

"Dad, I _know_ it wasn't an emergency! If it were urgent you would have made it burn a hole in my pocket from the outset instead of persistently getting more and more annoying like a petulant child!"

Another short silence. Estella smirked.

"Well actually I have spoken to my uncle this morning. He's right here, would you like to say good morning?" her smile widened, and she looked up at her uncle from her place on the floor. "You wanna say hi?"

Severus silently marvelled at how Estella's eyes lit up as she regarded the reflection on the other side of the mirror. Feelings of grief and guilt simultaneously pulled at him. Grief, for no longer being the person the child before him exclusively regarded in that way; and guilt, for ever consciously attempting to take the place of her father in her life. Shaking his head slightly at the proffered mirror, he reflected on how purely ingenious the communication device was. As he watched his niece resume her seemingly one-way conversation with the mirror he dismissed the fanciful thought of confiscating the curious artefact.

It wasn't as though Severus was completely unfamiliar with the principle. He'd seen the mirror being used in Order meetings where his niece had been absent, but had rather uncharacteristically overlooked how the device were used outside of the meeting setting. The realisation, then, that Estella could turn to either her father or godfather at any time whilst he was constrained by class time tables and House duties made him feel as though he had the shorter end of the wand. Here were two men who commanded all of her time during the summer, with the understanding that he would have ample access to the girl during the school term, and yet here they were able to talk to her whenever they wanted whilst he, as a teacher at the school, had very little chance outside of the academic setting.

Feeling in an equally dark mood as he had felt when he had first stepped into the room, Severus stood swiftly and excused himself tersely. Far be it for him to demand his niece's attention like some needy Gryffindor – if she wanted to converse with her father, then he was obliged to give her the privacy in which to do so.

Acknowledging his intent to depart, Estella scrambled to her feet and muttered an apology for the interruption. Then, before he could throw the Floo Powder into the dying embers of the fireplace, she threw her arms around his waist and hugged him tightly.

"Love you, Uncle Sev," she said, looking up at him as she held him in place. "You'll always be my most favourite uncle!"

"I'm your _only_ uncle, you foolish child!" Severus admonished his niece in an endearing fashion. Brushing the crown of her head with his lips, he whispered his other response into her hair and stepped back out of her loosening grip, dropping his pinch of Floo Powder in the same movement and whisking himself away to his quarters with a barely audible command.

"He's gone?" The image of her father's reflection called her back to attention. "Hey, why'd you suppose he didn't want to say hello?"

"Because you have _impeccable_ timing, that's why." Estella responded, inspecting the nails on her free hand as she made her way over towards a gaily coloured beanbag and falling into it in an unholy heap. "He'd only gotten halfway through the Sonata for one…"

"Huh?" Sirius stared at his daughter with a blank expression.

"Never mind," she waved her hand dismissively. "Have you gotten any news on Hagrid yet?"

"Ah…" said Sirius, "well, he was supposed to be back by now, no one's sure what's happened to him." Then, seeing his daughter's stricken face, he added quickly, "But Dumbledore's not worried, so don't you go getting anyone in a state; I'm sure Hagrid's fine."

"But if he was supposed to be back by now…" said Estella in a small, anxious voice.

"Madame Maxime was with him, we've been in touch with her and she says they got separated on the journey home – but there's nothing to suggest he's hurt or – well, nothing to suggest he's not perfectly OK."

"I _told_ him it was a bad idea, sending a half-giant into giant territory…" Estella scowled darkly. "And if I can conclude that as a _student_ and something _has_ happened to Hagrid it'll speak volumes-"

"Listen, don't go asking too many questions about Hagrid," said Sirius hastily, "it'll just draw even more attention to the fact that he's not back and believe it or not, Dumbledore has enough people to answer to right now… so lay off a little, all right? Hagrid's tough, he'll be OK." And when that did not appear to quell his daughter's dissent, Sirius added, "When's your next Hogsmeade weekend, anyway? I was thinking Padfoot could-"

"NO!" said Estella, rather loudly. "Didn't you see today's _Daily Prophet_? News has gotten out that you're wanted for questioning over that incident in the Ministry and they have specialists from St Mungo's saying that Azkaban made you crazy and you have to be 'regrettably' hospitalised for everyone's safety!"

"Oh, that," said Sirius, grinning, "Don't worry, Dumbledore will get it sorted-"

"But what if _they_ get to you first? You may have endured twelve years in Azkaban, but that doesn't mean there'll be anything left of you to save if those sick Ministry _you-know-whats_ have their way with you – especially when it's someone like Lucius Malfoy pulling the strings!"

"All right, all right, I've got the point," said Sirius. He looked most displeased. "Just an idea, thought you might like to get together."

"I would, I'd just prefer a father who didn't drool and look at things without seeing!" said Estella. "Though," she huffed as an after thought, "there are some who'd say…"

"Watch it you…" Sirius warned. "Don't forget you have to see me at least once a fortnight at meetings."

"Exactly, so why do you want to drag yourself out to Hogsmeade?" said Estella.

"Where else am I going to take my daughter shopping for her birthday present?" asked Sirius sweetly. "It's coming up, you know!"

Estella rolled her eyes exasperatedly and humoured her father as he began to excitedly make plans for her upcoming birthday. Not to discount all that her uncle had done for her or discredit her godfather's distinctly more subdued enthusiasm for the day, but she found it was rather something else to share the anticipation with a parent. Whereas with her uncle her birthday always seemed to be clouded by the shadow of her mother's death; and, in an unguarded moment, Estella would catch her godfather reflecting on the loss of his friends and entire way of life; it seemed that with her father, the 31st October was all about her. Of course, that said, Estella was not so foolish as to ignore the probability that her father was likely focusing on her birthday to distract himself from what else the day meant in their family history. She knew that his enthusiasm was expounded by his eagerness to make up for all their lost years together; and that, by the time the day rolls along, the other events of that day nearly fourteen years ago would still cross his mind.

"I know Dad, I know…" she said quietly, vowing to not allow any member of her family go through her birthday without paying her mother, James and Lily the remembrance their deaths command.

END CHAPTER

Next chapter: Second Chances

Due: Two weeks from now…


	16. Second Chances

**Updated Wednesday 26th April 2006 (Tuesday was ANZAC Day, and I couldn't get net access…)**

**Disclaimer: **Still no money in my bank account…

**A/N: **Sorry guys, I thought this chapter detailed Estella's birthday, but I was mistaken. It's definitely coming in Chapter 17: Halloween Tricks and Birthday Treats (or is that Halloween Treats and Birthday Tricks? Decisions, decisions…)

**Chapter Sixteen: Second Chances**

A week passed. Dolores Umbridge had successfully lobbied the Ministry to grant Severus temporary guardianship of Estella until such time that Sirius would present himself for 'psychological assessment'. With Dumbledore yet to oversee a _safe_ manner by which this could be done, Estella had no choice but to go along with the Ministry's ruling. It was just as well that the headmaster had been able to assure both father and daughter that the assigning of Severus as her legal guardian did little to change anything during the school term. She still had the means to sneak off to Order meetings once a fortnight, stayed in the dormitory with her housemates, and had plans to spend her Christmas with her _whole_ family.

Though exams were still a good half a year away, Estella's timetable was busy. With her research with Benson, her Order meetings and now her twice-weekly tutorials with her uncle, the common room in the Ravenclaw Tower became a most unfamiliar place. Thankfully, all of her friends were equally busy in their respective pursuits: Reg and John with their Quidditch, and Elsie was officially 'going steady' with her Hufflepuff beau. But, like anything, just as Estella was becoming comfortable with her life and becoming accustomed to the routine, something just had to come along and shake it all up…

"Uncle Sev! I found a very illuminating book on Deflective Curses in the Restricted Section today, I was wondering if we could-" Estella let herself into her uncle's quarters, her nose buried in a book as she spoke. Lowering the book mid-sentence, she looked up and stopped short when she saw just who was in her uncle's quarters. Tucking the book under her arm slowly, she folded her arms across her chest defensively, her wand hand not far from it's mark. "What are you doing here?"

"Ah, don't you see, Estella?" The smooth, sophisticated voice leered at her. "With your uncle once again your guardian, I am one step closer to achieving my goal… and you know what it is, don't you, else you would have seen fit to draw your wand."

"Is the Dark Lord in the habit of collecting such deluded followers?" Estella leant back against the wall languidly, her casual exterior belying the terror within. The familiarity of her uncle's quarters may have given her some bravado, but it had not made her dim. "Just because my uncle is my guardian again, it doesn't mean he will agree to your terms."

"You're sure of that?" said Lucius Malfoy, leaning forward in the chair her uncle liked to favour. "The Dark Lord-"

"-won't do anything to ensure you get what you want." Estella finished for him, a knowing glint in her eye. "You are already indebted to him for sparing my life; and I owe you no debt of gratitude for _that_ since it was yourself who endangered my life to begin with by taking me to your twisted little _reunion_ as some sacrificial party favour. That was some gamble, by the way… your plans would have been ruined had I not gotten away and your precious master had finished me off!"

Lucius' face hardened and he rose from his chair. "It was a price I was willing to pay for _our_ Master. It would have been unfortunate to see the blood oath between our two families unfulfilled, but there are still lesser purebloods that would eagerly overlook certain ambiguities in my son's lineage in exchange for a stake in the Malfoy legacy."

"Well why don't you go spend your precious time fielding their offers, if they are indeed tumbling out of your fireplace like soot in a blocked chimney," said Estella impishly. "Or is it an occupational hazard of Death Eaters to fight battles they cannot win?"

Lucius drew his wand and scowled in rage when the curse he shot at her fizzled and died as though he'd been using a damaged wand. Estella tilted her head to the side and wagged a finger at the man. Had the enraged Slytherin not been so caught up in his indignation, he might have noticed that the girl's hand was trembling.

"Tsk, tsk," she said, it taking every fibre of her being to stay in the room and not run from it, screaming. As horrifying as the present company was, there was a perverse pleasure to be found in baiting a defenceless Lucius Malfoy. "Did you not read the minutes of the last Governor's meeting? It appears that in the wake of _certain students_ being taken from the school against their will, the school wards have been _amended_. You can't touch me while I am within these walls."

"While you are within these walls," mirrored Lucius darkly, the threat clear. "I _will_ get what I want, one way or another. Resistance is futile!"

"Yeah, yeah, you just keep telling yourself that." Estella smirked, pulling her wand from its holster and toying with it in her hands. "It must really frustrate you to be unable to do what I am so sure you want to do right now, hmm?"

Lucius took a menacing step forward and brandished the handle of his cane at her. He didn't come any closer because he could already feel the prickling of magic that was compelling him to back off. "You are only making things worse for yourself! I will not forget this insubordination!" he warned.

Ever since Lucius' last visit (not that he remembered it, of course) Dumbledore had received permission from the Governors to intensify the wards within the school. A student could not be spelled upon without their prior knowledge and consent, likewise a Portkey in a student's possession would not activate unless all in contact with it were clear on its function. Unfortunately, such intensive measures could only be applied to either a small selection of rooms or an equally minority number of students at any one time; which is why the wards had not reflected this defence in the past.

That only a exclusive number of students could be protected by this ward at any one time made it a rather controversial and difficult motion to be approved by the Governors who, in the interests of fairness, did not want to be seen valuing the safety of one student more than another. In the end, there was sufficient evidence to support _why_ several intended students required such blanketing protection whilst within the school wards, and the motion was passed. Asides from Harry and Estella, those protected by the ward were not made aware of that fact, but Lucius did not know that. The Governor's meeting had convened whilst he had been recovering from the spells Dumbledore had cast on him during his forgotten visit to the school.

Hearing sounds from the other side of Severus' office door, Lucius straightened and smiled victoriously. "I am sure when your uncle finds out about your cheek he will see fit to deliver an appropriate _punishment_."

Estella was unperturbed. "Oh, really?" she asked, inspecting her nails. "I would rather have thought he would be more affronted by the arrival of an uninvited guest."

"What makes you think my presence here was unexpected?" Lucius let the question hang when the office door opened.

"What are you doing here?" Severus' eyes narrowed, the surprised man unknowingly repeating his niece's earlier words as he entered the room from his office and spotted the unlikely pair.

From behind her uncle, Estella relaxed and smirked. "See, told you so."

* * *

"I can't believe you got a detention with my uncle, Harry!" Estella admonished the Boy-Who-Lived as they spent some rare time together at the Gryffindor table; both having arrived early for the afternoon meal. "I mean, it doesn't _surprise_ me because I know what he's like, but really, Harry, must you make it so easy for him?"

"Oh, well excuse me if I've had a little stress on my mind!" Harry snapped tiredly, rubbing at his forehead in frustration. "Bloody Occlumency for one… and don't get me started on Umbridge-"

Clicking her tongue in disapproval about Harry's lack of progress in his Occlumency lessons – she had leant him the book that had helped her, but he did not take the time to read it clearly – she shook her head. "Harry, I've already told you a thousand times, this thing with Padfoot won't stop you from coming home for Christmas! Don't worry about it! Or is it something else bothering you?"

Harry, Estella knew, had been charged with the task of viewing select memories with Dumbledore and translating a bit of Parseltongue. She did not know precisely what the memories were about, or who they were from, but they evidently centred on a Parselmouth, Estella didn't really have to guess what Harry was seeing.

"It's just so damn frustrating!" Harry removed his hand from his head and slammed it down onto the table. "We're learning stuff-all in Defence, Voldemort's killing people left, right and centre, and ever since Umbridge got the power to issue detentions she's had her claws into me every chance she's got!"

"My uncle is just as frustrated, believe me!" Estella sighed, knowing it would be a cold day in hell before any of the Gryffindors in her life would ever truly understand her uncle. "I'll talk to him if you like, though, see if he may revoke the detention-"

"No!" Harry cut her off, looking alarmed. "That'll not go down well at all!"

"Well what do you want me to do about it, then?" Estelle snapped back, equally stretched by the recent events. "I don't want to spend what little time we get together at each other's throats! It's not worth it."

"You're right," said Harry miserably. "I'm sorry. Let's start over… hey Estella, long time no see!"

Estella laughed at the exaggerated cheer on Harry's face, and they began talking about less strenuous topics. Soon enough, the _Evening Prophet_ arrived, and the pair discarded their carefree conversation to once again broach the more serious issues. Hunched over the thick yellowing parchment, they expressed equal indignation at the latest news.

"Stan Shunpike, a Death Eater?" said Harry. 'No way!'

"He might have been put under the Imperius Curse," said Estella reasonably, reading on. "Doesn't look like it, though… looks like he was just trying to make out he knew more than he did and the Ministry pounced on him because they have to be seen doing _something_."

"Oh, like going after your dad isn't enough?" grimaced Harry.

"Nah, they've already crucified him in front of his peers and 'taken us away' from him so it's not newsworthy anymore." Estella's voice was laced with bitter sarcasm. That the Ministry copped no flak whatsoever for being the ones who put her father in the position to _allegedly _'go crazy' in the first place was something she could not understand. Sighing, she ran a hand through her hair, which was coming loose in its pony tail. "The world's gone crazy, I tell you! People are terrified – you know the Patil twins' parents want them to go home? Almost half the Hufflepuff first-years have already been withdrawn, and no one's seen Hannah Abbott since news got out about her mother…" – she shuddered – "…I wonder if this was what it was like the first time…"

"Harry! Estella! Just the pair I was hoping to see!" Professor Slughorn let his presence be known by coming up behind the engrossed pair and clapping a hand on each of their shoulders, causing them both to startle. "I was hoping to catch you both before dinner! What do you say to a spot of supper tonight in my rooms instead? We're having a little party, just a few rising stars. I've got McLaggen coming, and Zabini, the charming Melinda Bobbin – I don't know whether you know her? Estella, you might - her family owns a large chain of apothecaries…"

Estella nodded slowly, cringing inwardly at how much her old Potions tutor had changed since he began teaching entire classes again. One-on-one, he was decidedly much more _diluted_.

"I can't come, Professor," said Harry, a small sense of irony detected in his tone. "I've got a detention with Professor Snape."

Beside him, Estella snorted, coughing loudly to cover the laughter that threatened to break through. Feeling the Potion Master's eyes on her, she sighed dramatically.

"I'm afraid I'm with Harry. I got a detention too…"

"Oh dear!" said Slughorn, his face falling comically. 'Dear, dear, I was counting on you! Well, now, I'll just have to have a word with Severus and explain the situation, I'm sure I'll be able to persuade him to postpone your detention. Yes, I'll see you both later!'

He bustled away out of the Hall.

"I think I liked my chances better when _you_ were going to speak with him," said Harry burying his face in his hands the moment Slughorn was out of earshot.

"I can still talk to him if you'd rather have supper with the Slug Club," Estella smirked.

"Oh yeah, and what's this about you having a detention?" Harry cocked his head at her and gave her an expectant look.

"Oh, I figured that if you didn't want to get out of your detention with my uncle, I'd talk him into giving me one too." Estella grinned.

"You're crazy, you know that, don't you?" said Harry, though inwardly he was warmed by the gesture.

* * *

By the end of the evening, Estella had begun to regret ever having talked her uncle into having her serve detention with Harry. The idea that he might actually go easy on them both as opposed to actually punish Estella for no reason was quickly dispelled when she saw the pile of Flobberworms they had to sort – _without_ protective gloves. Afterwards, Estella was certain that she'd have the smell of rotted flesh underneath her nails for weeks, and she had taken great joy in flicking the discarded entrails into corners of the room her Uncle was not sure to look anytime soon. It baffled her why he was even having them handle potion ingredients at all now that he was their Defence teacher, but after an earlier question of hers had been rewarded with an extra bucket of ingredients to sort through, she decided to keep her mouth shut… for now.

"That was positively disgusting!" Harry yawned and scrubbed at his hands under the sink for the millionth time that evening. Estella's uncle had dismissed them ten minutes earlier, but they were still clearing away the evidence of their labour.

Noticing Harry rub at a mark on his hand, Estella frowned. Halting his hand gingerly, she gasped when she saw an angry, gaping wound. At some point in the past couple of days, someone had forced Harry to write with a cursed quill, and the slightly acidic Flobberworm blood had irritated the wound to the point that it was now weeping dangerously.

"Harry!" she admonished. "What on earth happened to your hand? You should have said something! He would have let you wear gloves!" – grabbing his wrist, she ignored the running tap and pulled Harry towards the door that led directly into her uncle's quarters. Because Severus was no longer the only resident Potions Master, the detention had taken place in the lab off his private office, as opposed to the Potions classroom.

"No! Wait, it's all right, I just need to run it under water-" said Harry, fighting to wrench his wrist out of Estella's grip, lest he allow himself to be pulled into uncharted territory.

"Harry, if you're worried about my uncle, he'll be doing his evening rounds in the Slytherin dorms for at least another half-hour… and since it appears as though you've neglected to consult Madam Pomfrey on this matter I'm going to assume that you want it kept under wraps, and this is the only way of doing so."

"Fine!" said Harry reluctantly, only conceding defeat because the puss oozing from the angry red wound was starting to concern him – not to mention it hurt like hell.

Whatever Harry had in mind for his most loathed teacher's private quarters, a cosy lounge room with a homely lived-in feel was not it. Gratefully accepting a seat in a big oversized armchair by the fire, Harry ogled at the room whilst Estella rummaged through a supplies cupboard as though she owned the place. '_Well_,' he told himself; '_she did live here for the better part of a decade_.'

All around him, shelves groaned with the weight of ancient tomes, and the mantle directly in front of him was alive with dozens of framed photographs, the animated figures therein all fighting for his attention. Recognising Estella immediately, he smirked at the images detailing her childhood and slowly came to terms with the idea of Snape being a family man.

On the far end of the room, a door stood ajar, and in the dim light of the fire, Harry could make out the shape of a bed. Realising once more that he was in the private quarters of a man who hated him, Harry suddenly became uncomfortable. Every sound thereafter, Harry was certain signalled the return of the illusive Slytherin, and his insides churned at the confrontation his inevitable arrival would bring. Begging Estella to hurry up, he sat rigid in the chair, subconsciously thinking that if he kept still enough he would disappear into the soft embrace of the chair and not be seen by anyone that should happen to walk in on him.

"Would you rather wait in my room?" asked Estella, peering over the edge of the cupboard door to look at her guest, her head nodding towards the slightly open door he had been looking at earlier. "Not that you have anything to be concerned about at all, mind. It'd be me he'd be mad at, if at anyone, which I doubt."

"If it's all the same to you, I will wait here," said Harry quietly, though he was more than a little curious to see what Estella's bedroom had been like growing up. "I don't think it will go down well if your uncle came in to find us both in your bedroom."

"Suit yourself," Estella shrugged and resumed her search of her uncle's first aid supplies. "Why don't you tell me how you came to substitute your own blood for ink while I look?"

No sooner had Harry explained about Umbridge's unique brand of punishment had Estella found all the ingredients she was after. Pulling out the jar of pickled Murtlap tentacles, she summoned a bowl and strainer and set them down heavily on the small table beside Harry. Then, sitting on the arm of the closest couch, she proceeded to methodically prepare the solution; her jerky movements and determined expression the only sign of her anger.

"Here," she said anxiously, pushing the small bowl of yellow liquid towards him, "soak your hand in that, it should help."

Harry placed his weeping, aching hand into the bowl, the taut lines around his face visibly relaxing as he found relief.

"Thanks," he said gratefully, momentarily forgetting just where he was lest he lose focus on the soothing effect the liquid was having on his hand.

"I think you should complain about this," said Estella in a low voice. "High Inquisitor or not, it's unacceptable!"

"No," said Harry flatly.

"McGonagall would go nuts if she knew-"

"Yeah, she probably would," said Harry dully. They needn't speak of how Sirius would react. "And how long do you reckon it'd take for Umbridge to pass another decree saying anyone who complains about the High Inquisitor gets sacked immediately?"

"She's an awful woman," said Estella in a small voice as she wiped her hands on her robes absently. "_Awful_… we've got to do something about her… and I don't mean setting Dad on her either because if he'd be half as mad as I am right now it'd only end him up back in Azkaban!"

"What do you suppose we do?" said Harry exasperatedly. "We can't very well run her out of the school…"

"I don't know, but maybe my uncle will have a suggestion," said Estella. "You may not think it was much, Harry, but what Umbridge did to you just highlights how much we really ought to be learning ways to defend ourselves. I bet you didn't even know that there was a spell to prevent a cursed quill from working!"

"Oh, like Umbridge would have liked that if I countered her punishment!" said Harry. "Besides, isn't there supposed to be a Hogwarts ward protecting us now?"

"Only from magic you do not consent to being used on you," said Estella exasperatedly. "By picking up the bloody quill and proceeding to write on the parchment, knowing full well what it would do to your hand after the first instant, you were giving your implied consent. Unfortunately, the school doesn't appear to recognise the coercions of environment; instead believing that you would have put down the quill if you didn't want to mutilate yourself."

"If only it were that easy," scowled Harry, "but what can I expect from an inanimate object?"

"Careful what you say, my friend. These walls have ears!" said Estella, in mock-chastisement. Stooping over the boy's arm, she eased his hand out of the bowl to inspect the scar that was now beginning to reveal itself. "What's it mean? '_I will not tell lies_?"

Harry's hand flinched in her grip and she lowered it back into the solution gently. Sighing, he began to explain.

"Well, you know how Umbridge is convinced that Padfoot's a loon for letting Remus live with us and that Azkaban has had a lasting effect on his abilities to function in society and all that rot?"

"How could I _not_?" Estella raised a brow and nodded impatiently for him to go on.

"Well she's been trying to get me to make a statement that will back up that theory," said Harry with a dark look on his face. "Not to mention she wants to use me to discredit Dumbledore as well – I think she feels as though it will be more believable, coming from '_The-Boy-Who-Lived_'."

"Let me guess, you refused to say anything except how great Dad is, right?" said Estella. Harry nodded, and Estella's ears went red. "So you tell the truth and not only does she accuse you of _lying_, but she forces you to mutilate yourself? Good heavens, Harry, why didn't you say anything?"

"Because it won't help!" said Harry.

"I know that," said Estella darkly, a smug look on her face. "But now we know we can ensure that she pays…"

"_We_?" said Harry warily.

"Well I'm going to have to account for the missing Murtlap tentacles somehow, aren't I?" said Estella. "Besides, my uncle is the best Slytherin there is. What better person to turn to for advice when you want to exact revenge on someone you don't even want to know they're being singled out?"

"Yes, well," said Harry, making to stand. "Tell your uncle what you want, but don't mind me if I choose not to be a part of it."

"By all means, Mr Potter, do not deprive yourself on my account," Severus leered from the door way, his jaw set in a hard line as he looked from the Boy-He-Loathed to his niece in silent question.

"Uncle Sev, you'd want to take a look at this!" Estella stood and gestured towards Harry's hand.

"It may have escaped your memory, Estella, but I _do_ happen to have better things to do than appraise the results of Mr Potter's clumsiness!" Severus' tone was cold and biting as he crossed the room to inspect what had been taken from his cupboard. He had, of course, assumed that Harry had merely cut himself during detention.

"Last time I checked, Uncle _Severus_," said Estella, adopting her uncle's full first name much like a disgruntled parent would their child's. "The forced use of a cursed quill does not amount to _clumsiness_!"

Severus spun around and narrowed his eyes at his niece. Making his way towards them in quick, gliding strides, he tugged at the sleeve of Harry's injured hand, effectively pulling it out of the water like a puppeteer with strings.

"Explain." he said pointedly, making no move to inspect the injury closely, nor come into physical contact with the boy; much to Estella's amusement.

"He's _not_ lying," said Estella firmly once Harry had finished telling his story. Severus gave the pair a scrutinising look and nodded reluctantly.

"Under no circumstances will you disclose this information to _anyone_," said Severus, emphasising the word 'anyone' to be inclusive of one easily angered and fiercely protective Animagus. When both teenagers nodded slowly, he rounded the small table in front of the hearth and assumed his rightful chair by the flickering flames. "Now," he said, his fingers forming a steeple under his chin. "Enlighten me as to what you now intend to do about it."

* * *

"An _army_?" Hermione was incredulous.

"Brilliant!" said Ron, beaming slightly despite the increasing confusion on his face. "Uh… just what…"

"I knew we should have told _my_ friends first!" Estella rolled her eyes, beckoning for Harry to explain.

"Well, you know how useless Defence Against the Dark Arts is at the moment, right? And you know how important it is to learn how to defend ourselves for real, right?" Harry waited for their nods before continuing. "And you know how the Ministry's greatest fear is that the poor defenceless children might band together and foolishly throw themselves into the frontline?"

"So you want to build an _army_ of children to foolishly throw themselves into the frontline?" Ron frowned.

"No!" Hermione caught on. "You want to start a group that will ensure that when we have _no choice_ but to fight, we won't be as helpless as the Ministry is trying to make us! Right?"

"_Something_ like that," said Estella. "Though Uncle Sev kinda stressed the importance of enforcing the _proper_ Defence curriculum-"

"Wait, Snape?" Ron spluttered, gaping at Harry and Estella. "_Snape_ is in on this? No offence, but are you sure it's not just some trap he's concocted with Umbridge to get us all expelled?"

Estella growled, causing Ron's face to lose all colour. "Oh," he said quickly. "Yeah, uh, right… so… an army, eh?"

"We're gonna spread word amongst the fourth years and above and have get everyone together in Hogsmeade on Saturday." Harry explained. "We don't want Umbridge catching on any sooner than she has to."

"Huh? But didn't we just have a Hogsmeade weekend?" Ron was baffled. "We never get another so soon!"

"Dumbledore issued the notice this morning at breakfast," said Hermione in a matter-of-fact tone. "Honestly, Ron, if you didn't shovel so much food in your mouth you might have been able to pay attention! We're getting another visit because the other one was cut short."

* * *

"Hey, Harry, I'm supposed to give you this."

Estella was out of breath as she'd just run down the hill to catch up with Harry. It had been her turn to attend the Order meeting the night before, and Dumbledore had given her a small scroll of parchment to pass on to Harry.

"Thanks, Estella… it's Dumbledore's next lesson!" Harry told the others, pulling open the parchment and quickly reading its contents before refolding it carefully and tucking it into a pocket of his cloak. Rubbing warmth back into his hands, he straightened and faced the others. "Right, ready to get this show on the road?" he asked.

Well over 25 students had expressed an interest in forming a special 'homework' group to study Defence, and they were all set to meet a little before lunch. Following from the events of the last Hogsmeade weekend, both John and Elsie's parents had revoked their respective children's Hogsmeade privileges. Reg, whose parents were equally concerned, had been collected from the school half an hour earlier, set to be accompanied everywhere he went in the village by his older brother. Kicking at loose bits of floor tiles with her boots, Estella trailed behind the others as they traversed the Entrance Hall, scowling at her feet and shoving her hands into her pockets moodily. It wasn't that she didn't like the idea of spending the day with Harry – because in fact with their plans being the way they were, she'd have had to anyway – it just frustrated her to have yet another thing that kept her away from her friends.

Filch was standing at the oak front doors as usual, checking off the names of people who had permission to go into Hogsmeade. The process took even longer than normal as Filch was triple-checking everybody with his Secrecy Sensor.

'What does it matter if we're smuggling Dark stuff OUT?' demanded Ron, eyeing the long thin Secrecy Sensor with apprehension. 'Surely you ought to be checking what we bring back IN?'

His cheek earned him a few extra jabs with the Sensor, and he was still wincing as they stepped into the wind and sleet.

The walk into Hogsmeade was not enjoyable. Everyone wrapped their scarves over their lower face; only to have the exposed part feeling both raw and numb within minutes. The road from the carriages to the village was full of students bent double against the bitter wind. More than once the image of a nice warm common room crossed their minds, and arriving in the main street to find even more stores boarded up and deserted it was any wonder that they didn't just turn on their heels and leave. In fact, Estella suspected that if it weren't for the scheduled meeting in twenty minutes time, they would have indeed turned back.

Ron pointed with a thickly gloved hand towards Honeydukes, which was mercifully open, and the others staggered in his wake into the crowded shop.

"Thank God," shivered Ron as they were enveloped by warm, toffee-scented air. "Let's stay here all afternoon. The _mob_ will know where to find us at school."

"Harry, m'boy!" said a booming voice from behind them.

"Oh, no," muttered Harry. The four of them turned to see Professor Slughorn, who was wearing an enormous furry hat and overcoat with matching fur collar, clutching a large bag of crystallised pineapple and occupying at least a quarter of the shop.

"Harry, that's three of my little suppers you've missed now!" said Slughorn, poking him genially in the chest. "It won't do, m'boy, I'm determined to have you! Miss Granger loves them, don't you?"

"Yes," said Hermione helplessly, "they're really-"

"So why don't you come along, Harry?" demanded Slughorn.

"Well I've had Quidditch practice, Professor," said Harry, earning him a sidelong look from Estella, who knew only too well that he had indeed been scheduling practices every time Slughorn had sent him a little violet-ribboned invitation. Estella too, had been invited on more than one occasion, but had been far too preoccupied with her uncle and Order responsibilities to attend. Estella suspected that Slughorn had tried to talk her uncle into freeing up some of her time to attend and it hadn't gone down too well because he seemed to go to lengths to avoid her completely now.

"Well, I certainly expect you to win your first match after all this hard work!" said Slughorn to Harry. "But a little recreation never hurt anybody. Now, how about Monday night, you can't possibly want to practice in this weather… and Estella…" – Estella cringed – "I know your uncle says that you have a lot of study, but if a seventh year Ravenclaw can find the time-"

"We can't, Professor, We've got – er – an appointment with Professor Dumbledore that evening." said Harry apologetically after exchanging a look with Estella. "All that Ministry business with Sirius is rather time consuming…"

"Unlucky again!" cried Slughorn dramatically. "Ah, well… you can't evade me for ever!"

"Want to bet?" Estella muttered under her breath to the man's back as he turned and waddled out of the shop.

"I can't believe you've wriggled out of another one," said Hermione, shaking her head. "They're not _that_ bad, you know… they've even quite fun sometimes…" But then she caught sight of Ron's expression. "Oh, look – they've got Deluxe Sugar Quills – those would last hours!"

Traipsing around the store until sufficient feeling had returned into their near-frozen limbs, the small group finalised their purchases and made to leave for the meeting they had arranged with their classmates. On her way out the door, Estella's eyes lingered on the kindly old lady behind the counter as a familiar line caught her ear.

"Oh, my husband and I have been here longer since before the Cannons started their dry spell…"

Whipping her head around as the words sunk in and she remembered just where she had heard something similar before, she halted in the doorway and stared at the woman, wide-eyed. As though drawn to her reaction, the old lady turned her head towards her and winked. _Winked_.

"Well I'll be!" Estella muttered, inclining her head slightly before turning on her heel and jogging along to catch up with the others.

"Where are we going, anyway?" Harry asked. "The Three Broomsticks?"

"Oh – no," said Hermione, coming out of a reverie, "no, it's always packed and really noisy. I've told the others to meet us in the Hog's Head, that other pub, you know the one, it's not on the main road. I think it's a bit… you know… _dodgy_… but students don't normally go in there, so I don't think we'll be overheard."

Knowing there would be no point to highlight the flaws in that assumption when everyone was probably already waiting for them at that venue, Estella said nothing. They walked down the main street past Zonko's Wizarding Joke Shop, where they were not surprised to see Fred, George and Lee Jordan mourning the boarded up windows, past the post office, from which the owls issued at regular intervals, and turned up a side-street at the top of which stood a small inn. A battered wooden sign hung from a rusty bracket over the door, with a picture of a wild boar's severed head, leaking blood on to the white cloth around it. The sign creaked in the wind as they approached. All three of them hesitated outside the door.

"Well, come on," said Hermione, slightly nervously. Harry led the way inside.

"Uh, I'll catch up," said Estella, mentally slapping her head. The last time they had been in Hogsmeade, she had gone to the launch of the Muggle Disco and Remus had been there – what if he was there again now? Muttering an excuse to that effect, she excused herself hurriedly and took off in the direction from whence they came. She had gotten no further than the Three Broomsticks when she happened upon a sight she'd not quite expected.

A man and a woman stood a little ahead of her, standing out from the slight splattering of people in the street because they seemed to be the only two not in any particular hurry. The man was very tall and thin; squinting through water-logged brows, Estella recognising him as the barman who worked in the Hog's Head. As she drew closer, the barmen drew his cloak more tightly around his neck and walked away, leaving the short woman to fumble with something in her arms. She was barely feet from her when Estella realised that the woman before her was not actually a woman at all, but rather a man _dressed_ as one.

"Mundungus!"

The squat, bandy-legged man with long straggly ginger hair jumped and dropped an ancient suitcase, which burst open, releasing what looked like the entire contents of a junk shop window.

"Oh, 'ello, 'Stella," said Mundungus Fletcher, with a most unconvincing stab at airiness. "Well, don't let me keep ya." And he began scrabbling on the ground to retrieve the contents of his suitcase with every appearance of a man eager to be gone.

"Are you selling this stuff?" asked Estella, watching Mundungus grabbing an assortment of grubby-looking objects from the ground.

"Oh, well, gotta scrape a living," said Mundungus. "Gimme that!"

Estella had stooped down and picked up something silver. "Hang on," Estella said slowly. "This looks familiar-"

"Thank you!" said Mundungus, snatching the goblet out of Estella's hand and stuffing it back into the case. "Well, I'll see you – OUCH!"

In a adrenalin-fuelled display of strength, Estella had pinned Mundungus against the wall of the pub by the throat. Holding him fast with one hand, she pulled out her wand.

"You took this from my grandparents' house!" said Estella, who was almost nose-to-nose with Mundungus and was breathing in an unpleasant smell of old tobacco and spirits. "That had the Black family crest on it."

"I – no – what -?" spluttered Mundungus, who was turning slowly purple.

"What did you do, sneak back in after a meeting and strip the place?" snarled Estella.

"I – no – you're mistaken –"

"Oh, am I?" Estella grinned maliciously. "We'll see about that! If it's all above board there's no problem with me taking a look!"

There was a bang and Estella felt her hands fly off Mundungus's throat. Gasping and spluttering, Mundungus seized the fallen case, then – CRACK – he Disapparated.

Estella swore at the top of her voice, spinning on the spot to see where Mundungus had gone.

"COME BACK, YOU THIEVING -!"

"There's no point, Estella."

Tonks had appeared out of nowhere, her mousy hair wet with sleet. "Mundungus will probably be in London by now. There's no point yelling."

"He's cased the house! Nicked our stuff!"

"Yes, but still," said Tonks, who seemed perfectly untroubled by this piece of information, "you should get out of the cold."

Scowling at her cousin's apparent nonchalance, Estella spun on her heel and stormed off towards the Hogs Head in a huff. The Hogs Head was not at all like the Three Broomsticks, whose large bar gave an impression of gleaming warmth and cleanliness. The Hog's Head bar comprised of one small, dingy and very dirty room that smelled strongly of something that might have been goats. The bay windows were so encrusted with grime that very little daylight could permeate the room, which was now lit instead with stubs of candles sitting on rough wooden tables. The floor seemed at first glance to be compressed earth, though as Estella stepped on to it she realised that there was stone beneath what seemed to be the accumulated filth of centuries.

The barman she had seen outside moments earlier sidled towards her out of a back room. He was a grumpy-looking old man with a great deal of long grey hair and beard. He was tall and thin and rather reminiscent of another old man she knew.

"What?" he grunted.

"A Butterbeer, please," said Estella, gritting out the last word reluctantly as she wanted nothing more at that moment to question the man about what he was doing with Mundungus and a suitcase full of her family's belongings.

Seemingly unaware of his customer's ire, the man reached beneath the counter and pulled up a very dusty, very dirty bottle, which he slammed on the bar.

"Two Sickles," he said.

Estella quickly passed over the silver. The barman gave Estella an appraising look – as though trying to place her. Then he turned away and deposited her money in an ancient wooden till whose draw slid open automatically to receive it. Nodding her thanks and grabbing her bottle with her _non_-wand hand, she turned to scour the bar for her friends. Sure enough, the sight of over twenty Hogwarts students swarmed around the furthest table from the bar was rather conspicuous. Shaking her head, Estella inched her way towards the small crowd.

"You do realise we're not exactly incognito, don't you?" Estella said by way of greeting, falling into the chair Harry had saved for her and flipping the cap off her bottle on the edge of the table, raising the bottle to her lips and taking a long draught before anyone could respond.

"What's the matter with you?" A snooty looking fifth year Estella didn't know sneered at her.

Casting her eyes over to Harry, Estella slammed her bottle down irritably and surveyed the room suspiciously for any sign of a recently vacated table. It was very likely that Mundungus had to have come into the Hogs Head in order to draw its bartender outside.

"I don't suppose any of you are observant enough to have noticed if a guy dressed in a woman's robe was by here, hmm?" she asked in a condescending tone. When over twenty pairs of eyes narrowed at her in contempt, she culled back her anger and sighed. "Sorry, had a run in with a bag of _Dung_ outside and I think I'll have the stink in my robes for weeks… amongst _other_ things…" she scowled again and exchanged a look with Harry that plainly stated that they would be talking later.

"Right, then," said Harry, nodding slightly to Estella and clearing his throat. "Now that we're all here-" Estella cut him off with a strange noise suspiciously like the annoying throat-clearing sounds the Hogwarts High Inquisitor would frequently make during her class inspections. Harry inhaled sharply and corrected himself. "Oh, _right_," he said. "Now that all of us with Hogsmeade privileges are present and accounted for…" – he paused to look for Estella's nod of approval before continuing – "shall we begin with a list of objectives?"

* * *

The meeting continued in much the same way, with many students cutting in at odd intervals, keen to learn about Harry's past exploits.

"Honestly," said Estella, smirking slightly when yet another person began questioning Harry about his Patronus. "I _really_ don't think this particular line of questioning was what my uncle had in mind."

Harry's eyes lit up and he grinned at her, the two sharing a private joke. The irony that it had been more or less Severus Snape who had given them the idea of starting such a group, only to have said group fawn and covet the Boy-Who-Lived in a way Severus Snape took great pains to reverse whenever he had the 'big-headed celebrity' in his class was not lost to them.

"Not a word," he said to her warningly before pulling the group's attention back to the matters at hand.

Later, as Estella was signing the register and felt a tingle of magic pass through her, she knew immediately that the parchment had been Spelled. Exchanging a knowing glance with Hermione, she was infinitely glad that she had handed the reigns over to the older girl in regards to dealing with the logistical side of organising the meetings. It had been discussed earlier at length and subsequently decided that as the niece of the suppressed Defence teacher, she had to keep a low profile. If ever Umbridge caught wind of the club's existence, Estella would likely be the first she'd suspect; and not only did Estella not wish to get expelled, but she didn't want to do anything that would implicate her uncle and place _his_ guardianship over her at risk. Asides from her father and uncle, her only other blood relatives were her father's cousins and of the three one was in Azkaban, another had married a Muggle and the third, though not technically bound to her by blood, would stand a far greater chance of getting custody of her because no one _knew_ the family secret. Shuddering slightly, it occurred to Estella that the only obstacle now standing in the way of Lucius Malfoy getting what he wanted was her uncle; and so it suddenly made sense why her uncle was humouring the man at all.

"Hey, Estella!" Harry waved his hand in front of her face, causing her eyelids to flutter in confusion and head turn to look at him. He leant back and drained the last drops from his bottle. "Shall we call it a day and go back to school, then?"

Confused, Estella looked around at the now empty table.

'_I have GOT to stop doing that!_' she scolded herself, unable to believe she'd managed to blank out _again_. Doing it at Order meetings was bad enough, but here in Hogsmeade? In the _Hogs Head_, of all places? In today's age it was almost suicide to be so unguarded.

Looking again to Harry, who was now sporting an amused look on his face, Estella scowled and nodded, her ire at Mundungus returning as she made a mental note to fill Harry in on the walk back to the school. In all, it had not been a very fun trip, and the weather was certainly not helping matters. Drawing her cloak around herself the moment they stepped out of the seedy bar, Estella pulled on her gloves and rearranged her scarf. They – Harry, his friends and herself – were halfway down the High Street, trailing slightly behind a girl called Katie Bell and another Gryffindor Estella did not know when she realised that she had meant to slip back to Honeydukes before they closed to try and corner the old lady who worked there. Turning her head over her shoulder, she looked back down the way they'd came and quickly dismissed the idea as she saw the amount of fog and sleet blowing in the wind. Even if she'd snuck back to the school via the Honeydukes tunnel, she wasn't about to venture out alone; neither was she about to declare the tunnel's existence to any student around them on the path who'd question how they got back to school.

Harry and Estella walked ahead of the main group so that they could talk quietly amongst themselves. It was difficult with the blustering wind, and they practically had to talk directly into each other's ears as they walked. To an outsider, it probably looked quite a sight.

"Are you sure?" was all Harry could say when Estella told him about what she'd seen fall out of Mundungus' suitcase. "Y'know, maybe your Dad gave them to him. Surely you remember how much he hated those goblets."

"Yeah, I know…" Estella bit her lower lip. Truth be told, she hadn't considered that. "But Dad hates Grimmauld Place in general. Doesn't mean he's going to stick to his word about razing it to the ground! Besides, if Dad _had_ given the stuff to 'Dung, don't you think he'd have told me as such when I had him by the neck?"

"Perhaps he didn't want to get your Dad in hot water… you reacted pretty badly, right?" said Harry, his infernal Gryffindor mentality coercing him to try and see the good in everybody (well, everybody except Slytherins, of course…). "Maybe he thought you were attached to the stuff and would be mad at your Dad if you found out-"

"Harry, now you're just talking nonsense." Estella cut him off, a small smile playing at her lips. "If that was his concern, he'd have assured me he was taking them straight back and he wouldn't have run off like he was guilty of something."

"Fine," said Harry. "So what do we tell Padfoot? You wanna come with to the next meeting to see it all play out?"

"Wouldn't miss it!" said Estella, smirking now as they walked on.

It was at this point that Estella became aware that the voices of Katie Bell and her friend, which were being carried back to her on the wind, had become shriller and louder. Estella squinted at their indistinct figures and nudged Harry. The two girls were having an argument about something Katie was holding in her hand.

'It's nothing to do with you, Leanne!' they heard Katie say.

They rounded a corner in the lane, sleet coming thick and fast, causing Estella to slip and lose her footing. Just as Harry stuck out an arm to stop her from falling, Leanne made to grab hold of the package Katie was holding; Katie tugged it back and the package fell to the ground. At once, Katie rose into the air gracefully, her arms outstretched, as though she were about to fly. Yet there was something wrong, something eerie… her hair was whipped around her by the fierce wind, but her eyes were closed and her face was quite empty of expression. By this time, Estella and Harry had stopped level with Leanne and the others behind them had just caught up. Before anyone else could question what was going on, Katie was six feet above the ground and let out a terrible scream. Her eyes flew open but whatever she could see, or whatever she was feeling, was clearly causing her terrible anguish. She screamed and screamed; Leanne started to scream too, and seized Katie's ankles, trying to tug her back to the ground. Harry, Estella, Ron and Hermione rushed forwards to help, but even as they grabbed Katie's legs, she fell on top of them; Harry and Ron managed to catch her but she was writing so much they could hardly hold her. Instead, they lowered her to the ground where she thrashed and screamed, apparently unable to recognise any of them.

Estella looked around; the landscape seemed deserted. Whipping out her wand, she pointed it at the sky and sent a continuous stream of bright red sparks into the air. "Hopefully they'll see that!" she said, referring to either a teacher at the school, or an Auror in the village.

Sure enough, Tonks and her Ministry-assigned partner, a tall lanky wizard who went by Jones, Apparated at their side, heeding their call. Thankfully they were not yet within the Hogwarts boundaries. While Jones endeavoured to stabilise Katie and levitate her body towards the school, Tonks conjured umbrellas for them all, cast a few weather-repelling charms for good measure, and then moved forward to comfort Leanne.

"It's Leanne, isn't it?" The girl nodded. "Did it just happen all of a sudden, or-?"

"It was when that package tore," sobbed Leanne, pointing at the now sodden brown-paper package on the ground, which had split open to reveal a greenish glitter. Ron bent down, his hand outstretched, but Estella seized his arm and pulled him back.

"_Don't touch it_!"

She crouched down, ignoring Tonks' movement to hold her back – the clumsy Metamorphagus could not quite reach her without letting go of the girl who was now clinging to her. Getting as close as she dared without coming into contact with the item on the ground, she could make out an ornate opal necklace poking out of the paper. Recognising it immediately, her face hardened.

"I've seen that before," she said, rising to her feet stiffly, her eyes not leaving the Dark object. "It was on display in Borgin and Burkes ages ago. The label said it was cursed. Katie must have touched it." What she didn't care to disclose in present company was that Draco had specifically mentioned the necklace to her when she had confronted him in the street. Though it was highly likely that Draco, given the illusive task Voldemort had asked of him, had been involved in the matters at hand, she didn't want to raise people's suspicions just yet.

"How did Katie get a hold of this?" she heard Tonks ask the girl, Leanne, a notepad and quill in her hand.

"Well, that's why we were arguing. She came back from the bathroom in the Three Broomsticks holding it, said it was a surprise for somebody at Hogwarts and she had to deliver it. She looked all funny when she said it… oh no, oh no, I bet she'd been Imperiused, and I didn't realise!" Leanne shook with renewed sobs. Hermione patted her shoulder gently.

"She didn't say who'd given it to her, Leanne?" Estella asked, curious.

"No… she wouldn't tell me… and I said she was being stupid and not to take it up to school, but she just wouldn't listen and… and then I tried to grab it from her… and – and – " Leanne let out of wail of despair.

"We'd better get up to school," said Hermione, who had replaced Tonks and now had the taller girl clinging to her, "we'll be able to find out how Katie is. Come on…"

Harry hesitated for a moment, then pulled his scarf from around his face and, ignoring Ron's gasp, carefully covered the necklace in it and picked it up.

"We'll need to show this to Madam Pomfrey," he said.

Tonks looked up from her notepad and gaped at Harry slightly before nodding. "Oh, er, right-o," she said, spiriting her notepad away and holding a hand out. "S'pose I should take that, now…"

Not meaning to sound condescending, Estella flung out her arm to hold Tonks back. "No offence, Tonks, but maybe you should let Harry take it since he's already got it secure," she said. Worried that Tonks would take the comment completely the wrong way, Estella's fears were quelled when she saw relief cross over her cousin's face. Estella supposed that there had been other incidents where the notoriously clumsy Auror had dropped evidence in the past.

Tightening his grip around his scarf and nodding grimly at Tonks' approval, Harry led the way back towards the school. No sooner had they reached the courtyard overlooking the impressive façade of the Entrance Hall doors was Professor McGonagall hurrying down the stone steps to meet them.

"Auror Jones says you all saw what happened to Katie Bell – upstairs to my office at once, please! What's that you're holding, Potter?"

"It's the thing she touched," said Harry.

'Good Lord,' said Professor McGonagall, casting Tonks a reproving look before taking the necklace from Harry. "No, no, Filch, they're with me!" she added hastily, as Filch came shuffling eagerly across the Entrance Hall holding his Secrecy Sensor aloft. "Take this necklace to Professor Snape at once, but be sure not to touch it, keep it wrapped in the scarf!"

"And could you tell him I'll be by to see him shortly," Estella added, causing the scruffy man to turn and sneer at her. As he turned and shuffled away, his omniscient cat trailing at his side, Estella knew her uncle would get the message. Far be it for the disgruntled squib to _not_ pass on a message bound for the Slytherin Housemaster. Sometimes it paid dividends to have an uncle everyone feared.

At Harry's insistence, both he and Estella were excused from recounting their version of events and directed towards Dumbledore's office. Soundlessly making their way up to the gargoyle seventh floor, Estella made sure no one was loitering around to witness them enter before giving Harry the OK to voice the password. Side by side they rode the spiralling staircase as it ascended towards the office at the top of the tower. The special password Dumbledore had given then was specific to them, and so they knew the old man would be in his office anticipating their arrival.

Sure enough, as they reached the top of the stairs they saw that the office door was already open, giving them an unexpected view of Dumbledore as he sat behind his desk looking unusually tired. Gesturing for them to enter and sit down with his good hand – the other was as black and burned as ever – he smiled reassuringly at them.

"You have had a busy time while I have been away," Dumbledore said. "I believe you witnessed Katie's accident,"

"Yes, sir. How is she?" Harry was first to answer, his longer legs having reached their destination before Estella, who took her seat next to him a beat later.

"Still very unwell, although she was relatively lucky. She appears to have brushed the necklace with the smallest possible amount of skin: there was a tiny hole in her glove. Had she put it on, had she even held it in her ungloved hand, she would have died, perhaps instantly. Luckily Severus was able to do enough to prevent a rapid spread of the curse."

"Where have you been?" asked Estella quickly, her indignation getting the better of her. Where was he indeed if, on one hand there are Order members stealing from each other in one corner and students exposing their classmates to the effects of Dark objects. "Must your absences be so _obvious_?"

"Impertinent," said a soft voice from one of the portraits on the wall, and Phineas Nigellus Black, her great-great-great grandfather, raised his head from his arms where he had appeared to be sleeping. "I would not have permitted a student to question the way Hogwarts operated in my day, even one of my own blood, girl!"

"Yes, thank you, Phineas," said Dumbledore congenially, moving on in his conversation as though interruptions from his portraits were an everyday occurrence. "Anyway, the St Mungo's staff are sending me hourly reports and I am hopeful that Katie will make a full recovery in time."

"Where were you this weekend, sir?" Harry asked, reiterating Estella's line of questioning and disregarding the strong feeling that they both may be pushing their luck - a feeling apparently shared by Phineas Nigellus, who hissed softly.

"I would rather not say just now," said Dumbledore, his eyes flicking towards Estella before returning to rest on Harry. Estella, in turn, bristled slightly and gritted her teeth, but said nothing. "However, I shall tell you in due course."

"You will?" said Harry, startled. Seated beside him, Estella relaxed. Unlike the man before them, she at least could trust Harry to tell her anything that was of importance to her.

"Yes, I expect so," said Dumbledore, withdrawing a familiar bag of Lemon Drops from his robes. "Lemon Drop?"

"Sir," said Estella tentatively, casting Harry a sidelong look; the pair politely declining the sour sweet. "I met Mundungus in Hogsmeade."

"Ah, yes, I am already aware that Mundungus has been treating your family heirlooms with light-fingered contempt," said Dumbledore, frowning a little. "Molly has noticed things missing whilst doing her rounds, though your father has assured me that there is nothing of _sentimental _value in the house. However, now it has been confirmed, rest assured that Mundungus will not be making away with any more of your family's old possessions."

"That mangy old half-blood has been stealing Black heirlooms?" said Phineas Nigellus, incensed; and he stalked out of his frame, undoubtedly to visit his portrait in number twelve, Grimmauld Place.

Ignoring Harry's 'told-you-so' look, Estella nodded absently at the Headmaster's words and found herself staring longingly at Fawkes' vacant perch.

"Sir, where's Fawkes?" she asked, just about falling from her chair in surprise when the bird appeared on the arm of the chair next to her no sooner than she had said the name.

"I trust that answers your question?" Albus inclined his head, causing his eyes to peer over the rims of his half-moon spectacles. Smiling then at the great bird that was his Familiar, he added; "Ah, Fawkes, as always you have impeccable timing."

When Estella realised that staring at the Headmaster questioningly was not going to give her any answers, she busied herself staring into the fire that was burning in the hearth. Everyone knew that Molly Weasley's main Order objective was to be something of a Den mother, caring for and tidying up after the constant stream of foot traffic that passed through the door of Headquarters. The Weasleys had all but officially moved in now, and the red-headed matriarch had, of course, insisted on doing all the housekeeping herself. Smirking slightly, Estella wondered how the coddling, opinionated woman was feeling about having household items disappear on her watch. Predictable as she was, it was likely that the Weasley mother felt somewhat responsible for the missing items, which would account for the nonchalant way her father was responding to it. As much as he liked to put his foot down when it came to the older woman meddling in his family affairs, he drew the line at being deliberately cruel. Her father being who he was, he'd probably gone to lengths to assure the woman that what had been stolen was unimportant to the family. It was then that Estella realised that she didn't actually know either way – he father was always vague and hardly flattering when talking about his former childhood home. Estella couldn't imagine someone _not_ cherishing at least one thing that was symbolic of their youth. For instance, Estella knew that she'd always have a soft spot for old books and Potions stools because it reminded her of the home she'd made with her uncle. Likewise, she would be beside herself if someone were to try and take away a piece of the home she shared with the rest of her family. An increasing feeling of unease settling in her stomach, Estella grimaced with the realisation that perhaps her father's childhood was an experience not worth preserving.

"'Lo Fawkes." Estella petted the soft plume of the great bird, the magical creature eagerly leaning into her touch. Lost in the sensation of the bird's silky feathers under her fingers, Estella soon forgot about the troubles in her mind, a noted look of relaxation sweeping over her.

Beside them, Harry was watching bird and girl interact with increased curiosity. Clearing his throat, he turned to the headmaster in question.

"Professor," he began, flicking his eyes from the twinkling gaze of the man in question to the other student in the room and back again. "What… what did it mean when… when Fawkes did what he did at the Order meeting?"

"It means that Fawkes has made his choice," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling all-knowingly as his admission snapped Estella's head up in attention.

"What do you mean?" Estella narrowed her eyes at the old man before averting to look at Fawkes for an answer. "What choice?"

"Why, I am surprised you haven't figured it out yet yourself!" said Dumbledore, his lips curling into a smile. "I thought I'd given you all the clues you'd need-"

"Well pardon me if I've been otherwise occupied!" said Estella dryly, prepared to not push the issue. If Dumbledore thought he'd given her all the clues then she'd be damned if she didn't figure it out for herself. Harry, however, had other ideas.

"Excuse me, sir, but figured what out?" asked Harry innocently, not quite in tune with the dynamic between the headmaster and Estella.

"Well," said Dumbledore indulgently, intent on answering the boy's question as though Estella were not in the room. "It seems that Fawkes here has chosen Estella."

Harry looked at the headmaster expectantly, and when the old man made no move to elaborate, he frowned. Estella meanwhile, looked from Fawkes to Dumbledore in silent acceptance and nodded. She was not entirely sure what Fawkes' choice meant, but she knew of the book that would clarify things – an obscure reference having come to mind at the first mention of the word 'chosen'. Whether or not the riddling wizard performed Legilimency, of if she was just particularly easy to read at that point, Estella wasn't sure, but she somehow knew that he knew that she was close to working it all out.

"Chosen?" Harry echoed the Headmaster's words, all but completely oblivious to the silent exchange between the other two occupants of the room.

"I'll show you later," said Estella, her eyes not leaving the Headmaster's. "Professor, I trust you will keep us abridged on Katie's condition?"

"Why yes, of course," said Dumbledore, rising to his feet to show the pair out. "Now, I am sure you both have somewhere you'd like to be-"

* * *

"So, are you going to show me, or what?" Harry asked her as soon as they'd passed the gargoyle and started down the empty seventh-floor corridor.

"Not just yet, my uncle is expecting me," said Estella. "You're welcome to come with, if you like-"

"Uh, no, it's all right," said Harry abruptly. "Just… we'll catch up later, OK?"

"Course," said Estella, bidding Harry well as they came up to the stairwell and parted ways.

Severus, however, could not be found in his quarters, or in his office. It was moments like these that Estella wished she'd had the Marauder's Map. Wandering around aimlessly, knowing she ought to dig up that book in the library but feeling too restless to commit herself to the task, Estella found herself in front of the statue of the one-eyed witch. Before she was even consciously aware of her actions, she had muttered the password and disappeared down the secret passageway that was revealed.

Honeydukes, Estella was quick to find, was nearly deserted at this time of day. With the eye of the storm having passed through the village earlier that day, golden hues of late afternoon sun now filtered through the sleet-covered glass, bouncing off the jars of sweets and bathing the room with an ethereal light. Students who had braved the earlier weather straggled past the store, hurrying back to the school for dinner. Distantly, Estella realised that she had completely missed lunch, her stomach choosing a stretch of silence to let its protestation be known.

"You best be getting back up to the school, dearie – put some food in your belly." The voice behind Estella caused her to spin around wildly in surprise. There, old Mrs Flume was turning back towards the shelf-lined wall, the boxes stacked in her arms blocking her line of sight.

"Oh, I don't know about that," said Estella flippantly, leaning her back against the shelf as the old woman placed the stock away beside her. "I'm sure there's a _trolley_ full of goods I could choose from. Hogwarts food does lose its appeal when you've lived on it practically every day of your life."

The old lady's hand froze in mid-air, the jar of Humming Bugs in her hand momentarily forgotten.

"I was wondering when I'd be seeing you, Estella dear." The old lady turned her head to wink at the bewildered teenager before going about her business as though their bizarre exchange had not just taken place.

"Wait… so you _are_ the Trolley Lady?" Estella was beside herself. "But why… the disguise… how come everyone doesn't know?"

In a matter-of-fact tone, the amused woman explained how difficult it would be for her to remain impartial to her customers if everyone knew of her dual-role. She also said something about 'hiding in plain sight' and the disguise having originally been implemented during Grindelwald's reign – for security – and it had stuck.

"So, what, you're going to Obliviate me now or something?" said Estella apprehensively.

Mrs Flume set down her jar of Iced Bat Wings heavily, her face coloured in both shock and amusement.

"Oh, good heavens child! No, of course not!" the woman reassured her good-humouredly. "Why, I simply expect that you will exercise your discretion like your father and uncle have before you."

"Just how many people know exactly?" Estella peered at the woman curiously, not quite catching the implications of the woman's revelation.

"Of the current students?" the old lady mused. "Well, now you… and those rambunctious twins-"

"Fred and George?" Estella was highly impressed that the pair had been able to keep it a secret. She would never have suspected them as knowing.

The woman nodded. "Though mind you, they had the help of that marvellous map… I'm certain you are familiar with that?" – Estella nodded mutely – "Your father and those friends of his were remarkably resourceful. Never did determine how those boys discovered the tunnel… which I've noticed is knowledge that has been liberally shared with the next generation, hmmm?"

Estella looked back the way she came and blushed sheepishly. She had been so certain that her comings and goings over the years had been undetected… at least that's what her godfather had implied.

"Oh, don't worry yourself child!" the old woman smiled at Estella's apologetic look. "Did you not realise that there are spells in place to make sure only those with no ill-designs can access it?" – Estella shrugged – "The wards protecting the Hogwarts boundary are not only at ground level."

Estella nodded mutely, inwardly cursing herself for not having thought of it sooner. Mulling over the woman's words, she backtracked.

"Wait, did you say my uncle knew?"

"Why yes of course – he'd always come into the store right before we closed to get his liquorice," said Mrs Flume. "I'm surprised you do not remember! He used to bring you in with him whenever he was rostered to round-up the lingering students at the end of a Hogsmeade visit…" her voice trailed off. "You were only a wee bit. I haven't seen your uncle with you in here for many a year-"

"My godfather started to escort me to the village once I started primary school," Estella confirmed. "I, er, got a lot less stares from my classmates…"

"Ah, yes, I do imagine that your uncle can appear quite intimidating to five-year-olds," the old lady bent forward slightly and leant close to Estella conspiringly. "But you and I know better, hmm? If I recall, there wasn't a lot he wouldn't let you do when he thought no one was watching."

At this Estella's head jerked up in surprise. From her memories of the time alone with her uncle in their quarters she would not have thought anyone would perceive his behaviour as 'soft'. Tolerant, maybe, but not that indulgent. She cocked her head to one side.

"What makes you say that?" she asked curiously.

Handing the girl a piece of chocolate fudge – her favourite, Estella noted – the woman summoned a duster and busied herself straightening the stock on the shelves.

"Call it my maternal instinct," she said cryptically. "One need only look at the man when he thought no one was watching him with you to see it in his eyes. Course, I'm a little more perceptive than most, I suppose… but he did never protest when I lavished you with attention or sweets." – she sighed - "It's never very often that a parent would bring a small child into the store - too much risk of breakages or temper tantrums, I suppose – but you were always such a delightful, well behaved child."

"Until I got her home and she'd explode into a sugar-high on account of all that fudge you always slipped her." A voice from the doorway startled Estella, who had been right in the middle of visibly popping a piece of the said fudge into her mouth.

"Uncle Sev!" she spluttered, choking on her mouthful. To her dismay, the bell above the store's front door was charmed silent, and she'd had absolutely no warning of the man's entry.

"Ah, Severus, right on time!" The old woman wiped her hands on her apron, bustling past Estella to search for something behind the counter. Placing a small, brown-paper-wrapped package by the register, she smiled at Severus. "One pound, as usual?"

Removing his gloves and tucking them under one arm while he retrieved his money pouch, he nodded towards Estella. "And a block of that fudge you hooked my niece on the moment she cut her teeth."

Summoning a block of the incriminating sweet, Mrs Flume was oblivious to the Slytherin Head of House's icy tone.

"Oh come now, Severus, I've not had the chance for nearly six years!"

"During which time you ensured the supply by having Lupin indulge the girl… don't think I didn't know what you were up to, the pair of you."

"Never did say I could get anything by you, young man;" said Mrs Flume. "Estella, it was nice to see you again… without the crush of students around keeping me in character."

Severus froze. "She knows?"

"No thanks to you!" Estella drawled, tilting her head to the side in indignation.

Severus accepted his change and tucked the small packages into a pocket of his voluminous robe before gesturing that she lead the way out of the store. Once out into the street and out of earshot of any passers-by, Severus rounded on his niece.

"Care to explain what you were doing back in Hogsmeade when I have it on good authority that Aurors escorted you and your friends back to the school at lunch time?"

Realising the ramifications of being caught alone in Hogsmeade, Estella began edging away slowly, shaking her head and holding her hands up in defeat.

"It's not what it looks like! I just came back to see Mrs Flume, to confirm my suspicions. I didn't even go outside-"

"What if someone who saw you leave Hogsmeade saw you reappear in the village with no apparent means of travel?" Severus asked. "Now is not the time to be drawing attention, Estella."

"Yes, Uncle," said Estella submissively, knowing it wasn't worth arguing about the fact that she hadn't even intended on leaving the store and it was unlikely that anyone would have noticed anything out of the ordinary. What her uncle was really saying, after all, was that he was concerned to see her _alone_ in Hogsmeade during such a dangerous time.

Straightening to his full height, satisfied that he had gotten his point across, Severus nodded curtly and strode forward purposefully. Together, they trudged along in mutual silence, until a loud grumbling in Estella's stomach caused her uncle to cast her a curious look.

"You missed lunch." It was not a question, but rather a statement. Severus knew his niece far too well to assume differently. Frowning down at her in disapproval – for mealtimes were something he had always stressed adherence to since in perilous times you could never be fully assured of your next meal – Severus was further concerned to notice that the child was without a cloak. Without hesitation, he removed his own outer-layer and draped it over the girl's shoulders.

"Thanks," said Estella, wrapping herself up in the warmth of her uncle's cloak, happily losing herself in the lingering scent. She had felt the sharp edge of the cold the moment they had stepped out of the toasty warmth of the sweet shop, but Estella had never been one to complain, especially when it was her own fault that she was without protection from the elements. Answering her uncle's unasked question, she shrugged. "I must have left my cloak in McGonagall's office – I really wasn't planning on… oh no, I'm trailing your cloak through the mud! I'm sorry, why didn't you just cast a Warming Charm?"

"Because I'd rather invoke foolish wandplay casting a Cleaning Charm rather than trusting it for something I cannot see take effect."

"So in other words you wanted to be sure I would be warm, but you did not trust your Charms?" said Estella. "That's so sweet."

"Not as sweet as that fudge you insist on rotting your teeth with," said Severus in a rare candid moment, resting a hand on his niece's shoulder as they began to negotiate a particularly slippery part of the road.

Leaning into her uncle's side, Estella was warmed by her uncle's subtle display of care. Having spent the previous several years in the care of others, she realised that she still missed the little nuances of her uncle's character which he didn't exhibit in class.

"I came looking for you earlier," she said conversationally. "How did you suss out the Curse on the necklace?"

"The colour residue left on the gems when the light caught it," answered Severus.

"The Killing Curse." Estella stated, remembering all too well the green tinge she had seen when she had taken a close look at the piece of jewellery. Feeling her uncle's grip tighten on her shoulder compulsively – as though he were alarmed she had been in such close proximity to a potentially deadly object – Estella reached up and patted his hand in assurance. "I knew better than to touch it… but I don't understand what Draco had to gain by giving it to Katie like that – if not Katie, Filch would most certainly have intercepted it-"

Halting in his tracks, his grip on Estella's shoulder pulling his niece along with him, Severus pulled Estella around to look at him and led her aside to the edge of the path, slightly beyond the tree line, in the shadows. Manoeuvring her so that she was backed up against a tree and he had a bird's eye view of the path behind her, Severus rested a hand on each shoulder and leant in close.

"Are you suggesting that a student was responsible for this?" he asked in a low, urgent tone.

"No, I'm saying _Draco_ had something to do with it," said Estella. "I know it could be a coincidence that he pointed out that necklace to me in Knockturn Alley; but given that he's been told to do something for-"

"-he pointed the necklace out to you?" interrupted Severus, genuine surprise in his voice. Quickly masking his emotions, he changed tact. "You never saw Draco _with_ the necklace? You are basing your allegation on circumstantial supposition? Who else have you told?"

Seeing the wild look in her uncle's eyes, Estella's stomach fell. All at once she remembered how much the Slytherin House had endured since the Dark Lord's return. With six students already expelled, Estella was loath to think how the dishonourable discharge of one of Slytherin's highest-profile students would impact on her uncle. As head of the proud, habitually misunderstood house, Estella knew that Severus took the reputation of his Slytherins to heart. Unsubstantiated rumours and perceptions he could tolerate, but when a select minority chose to validate the Dark leaning so readily prescribed to his House, Severus Snape seemed to take personal offence; and Estella knew that it would not be wise to start such rumours about Draco without more sufficient evidence.

"Just you," she promised. "I was thinking of speaking to Draco before I let my-"

"You will stay away from that boy!" said Severus with all manner of seriousness. "I will handle things from here. Do not disclose your information to _anyone_, do you understand?"

Trusting her uncle to deal with Draco internally, she nodded in understanding and agreement. Though she could not quite see why her uncle would insist on doing things himself when there were Order resources at his disposal that would risk his cover far less than such a direct approach, she could appreciate the Slytherin's desire for discretion and independence. "What if Draco approaches me?"

"Then I trust you will deal with him as you have been taught," said Severus, straightening himself up and steering his niece back towards the path. "Come, we will miss dinner."

* * *

"Where have you been?" said John at breakfast the next day. "Hermione came around to see us at dinner, but no-one had seen you since you and Harry left for Dumbledore's office."

"I was with my uncle. Lost track of time and ended up staying in my room in his quarters," said Estella truthfully, tucking into a plateful of scrambled eggs.

"But you live with your dad now, right?" said John, confused. "I mean despite what Umbridge and those Ministry officials say; your uncle's letting you go to him for Christmas, yeah?" – Estella nodded, gesturing for him to keep his voice down with her fork on account of her mouth being full. John complied – "then how come he has a room for you in his quarters?"

"Huh?" Estella was confused. "That's always been my room, silly. I grew up… what, did you really expect my uncle to turn it into a room for his potions or something?" – John stared at her blankly – "You did? What kind of man do you take my uncle for?"

"Well he let you go live with your dad rather blindly, Estella, admit it;" said John. "Now you say that he's going to let you go back to him despite the Ministry's advice?"

"Let me rephrase that question," said Estella darkly. "What kind of man do you take my _father_ for, hmmm? Where is all this coming from, John? You know the Ministry has a different agenda! For your information – though I'm beginning to think it's none of your business – my uncle let me live with my father because he is man enough to acknowledge that my father is a good person. That I belong with my father and am just as safe with him as I ever was."

"I do understand that, I do." said John. "But your uncle _raised _you, Estella. How could he just let you go? He doesn't strike me as the sort to back down without a fight."

"No, he just prefers to choose his battles," Estella conceded; her mind suddenly entertaining all manner of questions about how her change of address had affected her uncle. "My uncle didn't 'let' me do anything. Perhaps he had no choice."

"He has choice now, doesn't he?" said John. "The Ministry has reinstated his guardianship, right? So he can choose to keep you away from you Dad at Christmas-"

"-but he won't, because he knows that's not what I want." Estella finished for him, adding only to herself that her displeasure was not exactly in Dumbledore's best interests, either. "Is the idea of a man like Severus Snape having heart enough to bend to the whims of a child" –'_or a overbearing Headmaster_', she added to herself – "completely foreign to you?"

"I'm sorry, Estella, but you have to admit that it appears pretty unlikely-"

"Stop, John. Just stop it. I'm not about to go around in circles with you," said Estella tiredly. "Whatever you may think, you are sadly mistaken. You cannot possibly hope to know my uncle as well as I do purely from his behaviour in class. There's a lot more to him than that, and I should know!" – she wiped a hand over her face wearily, lest she go into a complete rant, and turned her attention towards a discarded copy of the _Daily Prophet_, noting absently that she had left her own copy behind in her uncle's quarters, unread. "Can we talk about something else?"

"Okay," said John, reaching for the paper in Estella's hands. He had not been placed into Ravenclaw for just his book smarts. "Wanna work on the crossword together?"

No sooner had the pair made themselves comfortable, beginning to work their way through the crossword side-by-side, were they interrupted.

"Hey, have you seen it?" Reg lumbered up to them hurriedly. "The notice in the common rooms? I've just come from the Hufflepuff table, and they have one too. All the first years are tied up in knots about the possibility of the Gobstones Club being closed-"

"Reg, I didn't look at the board this morning," said John slowly, cutting his friend off. Gesturing towards Estella, he continued. "Estella hasn't even been to the tower this morning, either…"

Estella nodded. "Perhaps you should start at the beginning?"

As soon as Reg had recited an abridged version of the High Inquisitor's notice, Estella's eyes flew to the Gryffindor table. There, she could see Harry and Hermione ushering some approaching Hufflepuffs away. Following her gaze, John frowned.

"What does this mean for the you-know-what?" he asked in a hushed tone.

"Nothing, if I have any say in it," said Estella lightly, an unidentifiable glint in her eye. "Leave it with me, I'll get back to you."

"You mean we're still going ahead?" Reg was surprised. He, along with John and Elsie had signed the parchment at dinner the night before. "Even after it's so blatantly obvious that someone snitched-"

"_Especially_ since someone betrayed us," said Estella in undertones, before tucking back into her breakfast. Adopting a cheerful tone, she talked between mouthfuls. "But don't worry about that; I've a feeling we'll know who ratted us out by day's end."

"The parchment was Spelled, wasn't it?" said John, smirking at Estella's mischievous nod. "Brilliant."

"Ow!" said Estella, a hand flying up to rub the back of her head in alarm. Before she could do so, however, she found herself with a handful of balled up parchment. Nonchalantly pulling it in front of her, she brought the covert message between two pages of the newspaper and smoothed it out inconspicuously. Ironing out the wrinkles, she was surprised to find a torn out page from the _Daily Prophet_. Exchanging questioning looks with her friends, who shrugged, she pulled out her wand; then, on a whim, whispered a familiar password.

"Hey, how'd you do that?" Reg sat up straighter and ogled at his friend in surprise as the letters on the page began to rearrange themselves.

Colonel Mustard in the Living Room with the Candlestick 

_Peacock_

"Someone's been reading ye ol' Zonko magazines," she said absently, ignoring her friends confused looks as they stared at her expecting more of an explanation. Giving the piece of parchment a decisive nod, she balled the paper up again and placed it into her empty cereal bowl; pulling out her wand and incinerating it with a small flash.

Still ignoring her friend's confusion, Estella decoded the message. If memory served her correctly, 'Colonel Mustard' and 'Living Room' in the same sentence referred to the Gryffindor common room; while the weapon of choice – the candlestick – referred to the fireplace, and the signatory, Peacock, prescribed who the message was about. So, it appeared to Estella that her father would be appearing in the Gryffindor fire at midnight that night… midnight, because it was an established given that all 'murders' took place then.

"What's that all about, then?" John nudged her subtly, gesturing towards the small pile of ash that was pooled in the bowl.

"Don't ask," said Estella. It was vital to the code's success that only those who'd played the game over summer would understand the relevance. Picking her wand up once more, Estella flicked it towards the bowl, casually casting a _Scourigify_, before reaching for a cereal dispenser and heaping some into the bowl. Once she had measured her fill, she set about adding milk and sugar before pulling the bowl closer to her and picking up a spoon. The utensil was halfway to her mouth when she noticed her friends staring at her. Putting the spoon down heavily, she sighed. "I'll give you details tomorrow, 'kay? I'll know more then."

* * *

Yawning, Estella scowled at the fire. "All right, so what's with the clandestine cloak and daggers routine?"

"We suspect that someone is monitoring the Owls coming in and out of the school;" her father explained.

"So, how does that affect us?" We have _other_ means of communication-"

"Yes, but we don't want Umbridge to suspect that, do we?" said Harry. "It's starting to look suspicious that we never get any Owls."

"Which is why I sent one to Harry this morning to set up this meeting," said Sirius.

"What, so Umbridge can crash the party at any moment?" Estella paled. "Are you _nuts_?"

"Apparently." Sirius smirked, alluding to the Ministry's engineered opinion of him. "I don't know what you're so worried about – you can still use the teacher's entrances, right? And you remember that one-way passage I used… it leads to a tapestry by the stairwell to the library."

"All right, so we're conducting this sham conversation in the middle of the night to illustrate to Umbridge that we are in contact with you?" Estella frowned, inwardly casting aside the memory of the first time she'd laid eyes on her father. Far though they'd come in their relationship since that night, the encounter was not a happy memory. Her thoughts then flying to Umbridge – someone who she wished would relegate themselves to being just another unhappy memory – she shook her head. "Great way to get her off our backs… so, what, we sit here and wait?"

"First of all, the purpose of this little exercise is to try and confirm whether or not the post is being intercepted;" said Sirius in a businesslike tone "In the meantime, why don't you tell me about this secret Defence Against the Dark Arts group I've been hearing about?"

There was a slight pause.

"How did you know about that?" Harry demanded.

"It was 'Dung, wasn't it?" said Estella, scowling slightly.

"No, Tonks actually… she followed you into the Hog's Head out of concern;" said Sirius. "I imagine I'd have other things to discuss with Fletcher if I were to bump into that sewer rat anytime soon. Dumbledore told me you caught him in the act."- he paused slightly, and as though by an afterthought, he added – "you know you really shouldn't go into that bar-"

"Well it was better than the Three Broomsticks!" said Hermione defensively, both she and Ron were present. "That's always packed with people."

"Which means you'd have been harder to overhear," said Sirius. "You've got a lot to learn, Hermione."

"Oy, lighten up!" said Estella. Though she agreed with her father's assessment of Hermione's choice of venue, she didn't like seeing the girl singled out. "The venue had some merit! Asides from those set out to follow us specifically, everyone in that bar pretty much keeps to themselves, admit it!"

"Hey, I was just making an observation!" said Sirius. "I'm not condemning what you all did. Not in the slightest… but I'm a Dad, I'm allowed to _worry _about the mischief my kids are getting themselves into."

There was no mistaking the distinct pride in Sirius' voice, and beside her, Harry swelled at his godfather's use of plural. Having fully expected a lecture, Hermione looked to Harry and Estella with a mix of surprise and disappointment. Beside her, Ron was frowning.

"What was 'Dung doing in woman's robes?" he asked.

"What, besides pulling off shady deals with stolen goods?" Estella drawled.

"Oh, I don't know, Ron, maybe he just got his dress robes from the same place as you!" Harry smirked, deftly ducking to avoid the cushion Ron hurled in his direction.

Sirius, watching the teenagers, was chuckling quietly, his mind, no doubt, assaulted with memories of similar scenes from his own school years. "I can't speak for his fashion sense, Ron, but I suspect he was trying to sneak into the Hog's Head without being seen. He was banned twenty years ago, apparently-"

"-well that makes no sense," Estella cut in. "I saw him talking with the Hog's Head barman outside the Three Broomsticks. If anything, it was the barman who was trying to not be seen."

"Really?" Sirius frowned. "Can't say I have an answer to that… but oh, before I forget, Ron – I've sworn to pass on a message from your mother."

"Oh yeah?" said Ron, sounding apprehensive.

"She says on no account whatsoever are you to take part in an illegal secret Defence Against the Dark Arts group. She says you'll be expelled for sure and your future will be ruined. She says there will be plenty of time to learn how to defend yourself later and that you are too young to be worrying about that right now. She also-" (Sirius' eyes turned to the others) "-advises you lot not to proceed with the group, though she accepts that she has no authority over either of you and begs you to remember that she has your best interests at heart. She would have written all this to you, but if the owl had been intercepted you'd all have been in real trouble, and she can't say it for herself because using the Floo is against school rules… so it's fallen to me to be the messenger and make sure you tell her I passed it all on, because I don't think she trusts me to."

There was another pause as the teenagers mulled over the message. Without warning, Estella began to laugh.

"Merlin, Ron, is your mum _related_ to Umbridge or something?" she said, envisioning the argument her father must have had with the woman that had resulted in such a compromise. "I didn't actually think people thought that way about - "

"Hey!" said Ron, turning red. "She's just overprotective."

"To a fault," father and daughter snorted simultaneously, bringing a smile to even Hermione's thinly pursed lips. Seeing the redheaded boy grimace and growl softly, Estella sobered, sending her father a warning look. "All parents are overprotective, to an extent. You don't see my Dad here backing your mum up! Speaking of which, Dad, could you be any more _enthusiastic_ with that delivery?"

"Wait," interrupted Harry before Sirius to answer. "You're not telling me to not take part?"

"Me? Certainly not!" said Sirius, looking surprised. "I think it's an excellent idea."

"You do?" several voices, bar Estella, chorused.

"Of course I do!" said Sirius. "D'you think James and I would've laid down and taken orders from an old hag like Umbridge? You're in a perfect position to take matters into your own hands and I can't fault that kind of initiative."

Harry and Estella exchanged a knowing look and smiled at the unsuspecting Animagus.

"Should you tell him, or should I?" asked Estella cryptically.

"Oh, I don't know, I don't think it would be good if he passed out with his head in the fireplace," said Harry. "Floo Powder wears off, doesn't it?"

"Harry… Estella…" Sirius growled playfully. "Tell me what?" he turned his head to the side in alarm and swore. "Blast that woman's timing!" he said quickly, disappearing from the fire with a pop. In his wake, a hand appeared in the fireplace, grasping and groping around blindly.

"Oh, I hate it when we're right," said Harry with a sickened look on his face.

"The mail's being intercepted!" Hermione was indignant in her disapproval.

Seeing the flames flicker green, warning them of a imminent arrival in the fireplace, the four teenagers jumped up and scattered… Hermione and the boys to their respective dorms, and Estella to the closest exist with the assistance of Harry's Invisibility Cloak.

* * *

End Chapter.

Next Chapter: Halloween Tricks and Birthday Treats

Due: _By_ the 9th May.


	17. Halloween Tricks and Birthday Treats

**Updated Tuesday 9th May 2006**

**Chapter Seventeen: Halloween Tricks and Birthday Treats **

The first Quidditch match of the Gryffindor's season fell the following day, on the eve of Estella's birthday. Though it was highly unusual for a Quidditch match to be scheduled on a school day, an exception had been made when the 'make-up' Hogsmeade visit had coincided with the match's original date. On some level, Estella suspected that the Headmaster was going to lengths to simultaneously lift students' spirits and annoy one High Inquisitor. Ignorant to the fear and despair that the outside world was inflicting upon the students, the deluded woman just could not see the merit in taking classes away from their 'vitally important' lessons.

In a show of support, many Ravenclaws had chosen to dine with the Gryffindors for the meal before the match, Estella and her friends amongst them. A dual purpose to the inter-house mingling was to host an impromptu, and entirely daring and brazen, D.A. meeting right under Umbridge's very nose. Estella couldn't recall who, amongst those present in the Hog's Head at the weekend had come up with the idea of calling the group 'Dumbledore's Army'; but whether the D.A. stood for that, or, if anyone asked, 'Defence Association', the abbreviated 'D.A.' had stuck.

Surrounded now by a majority of Gryffindor members, together with a select conglomerate of representatives from the other Houses, Hermione was covertly explaining the function of her fake Galleons. If a teacher were to come across them, it would look as though the girl were simply taking a few harmless bets for the upcoming game.

"The Protean Charm?" said John reverently, "isn't that NEWT standard?"

"Well… yes… I suppose it is;" said Hermione, trying to sound modest. "The Hat did consider Sorting me into Ravenclaw, you know, though evidently it settled on Gryffindor in the end."

"You know what it reminds me of, though?" said Harry with a haunted look. "The Death Eater's scars. They work in very much the same way-"

"That's because they both use a variant of the same charm," said Estella quietly, having done some 'light reading' on the subject when she was younger; curious to know more about the mark that graced her uncle's forearm since before she was born.

"Yes, but you'll note that I've chosen to burn information about our meetings on to chunks of metal, not our member's skin;" said Hermione defensively. "I thought using Galleons was a good idea since it'd hardly look suspicious if we ever had to turn out our pockets."

"No one's saying it's not a brilliant idea," said Reg encouragingly, Estella and her friends nodding in rapid agreement. "In fact, the only flaw I can see – not that I would go so far as you actually call it a flaw, per se, is the risk that we might accidentally spend it."

"Speak for yourself," said Ron sourly, pushing his food around on his plate with his fork dejectedly. "Some of us don't have any real Galleons to confuse them with."

Noting the redhead's nervous look, attention quickly turned to the game ahead; many people working towards lifting the new Keeper's mood as he found himself almost ill with pre-match nerves.

"Hello," said a vague and dreamy voice from behind them. Looking around in question, they could see Luna Lovegood wearing a rather ostentatious, life-size lion's head on her head. "I just wanted to come over and wish you all luck for this afternoon's game. I'll be supporting Gryffindor today;" she gestured unnecessarily towards her hat, before tapping it with her wand and causing it to come to life with a deafening roar. Then, tucking her wand away behind her ear as though she hadn't just drawn the attention of every pair of ears within the Great Hall – and probably a great deal beyond – she smiled lazily. "I was going to have it chewing on a serpent to represent Slytherin, but there wasn't enough time. Well, bye then."

Staring after the aloof Ravenclaw with a mix of awe and incredulity, Estella quickly returned her attention to her lunch, fighting the urge to just slap some sense into the youngest Weasley boy. Nerves were one thing, but to emphatically lament that his appointment to the team was a mistake and that he shouldn't play at all got Estella's hackles up. Not only was it an insult to Harry's intelligence (for having chosen Ron for the position), but seeing the melodramatic Gryffindor doubt his abilities so much led her to question Harry's choice in friends. She'd heard about Ron's jealousy the year before, and witnessing the boy fall to pieces over his part in a Quidditch match, Estella dreaded to imagine how the quivering boy would react to Harry's destiny as Voldemort's destroyer and, by extension, his own role in the war. It was resoundingly apparent that Ronald Weasley had a fair bit of growing up to do, and in the meantime Estella could only hope that the inevitable battle between good and evil would wait.

Effectively tuning Ron out, Estella focussed on her friends, lest she lose her cool and say something she'd regret later. Elsie, unsurprisingly, was seated at the Hufflepuff table; the only time she saw the illusive Ravenclaw these days was in their dorm room. Opposite her, Reg was his usual affable self, playing off the attention a gaggle of fourth year girls were paying him; yet, in the fashion of a true bachelor, unwilling to commit. Far from being a lovable rogue, Reginald Davies seemed to walk a fine line between suave, bookish intellect and self-confident jock; appealing to girls on both ends of the spectrum without being either nauseatingly opinionated or immodest. If there were room for a pictorial depiction of the word 'charismatic' in the dictionary, Reg would likely star. For those who knew him best, however – either those of his house or those older students who had seen it all before in his older brother – Reg was just Reg, and it was this nonchalance that Estella figured kept her friend grounded. That and the inherent character trait of most all Ravenclaws that averted them from seeking glory.

As for John, who, as Estella had come to notice favoured an almost possessive place at Estella's side – especially when in the vicinity of a certain Gryffindor – he was somewhat skittish and stand-offish. Estella could only assume that he felt uncomfortable with the ease by which she and Harry interacted after their one summer together. Then again, the Gryffindors had been discussing his brother's prowess a little earlier and being reminded of his brother's success never failed to plague the younger Ryan's mood. She and John had been getting along as well as they ever had in recent days; the incident in Hogsmeade two weeks earlier seemingly left in the past where it belonged. The only problem was, now John had officially asked her out, she no longer knew where she stood. Of course, their proposed outing hadn't quite eventuated, but now John had apparently forgiven her for standing him up she wasn't sure if he now saw them as a couple, or if they had gone back to being the good friends they'd always been. All she did know was that he had been incensed by his parent's decision to revoke his Hogsmeade privileges and, subsequently, equally put out when Estella had insisted on going to the village with Harry in his stead.

"Are you coming, Estella?" John asked her expectantly, turning to look back at her as all the students filtered out of the Entrance Hall, headed for the Quidditch pitch where the match was about to begin.

Fiddling with the faded, scarlet and gold scarf – her father's – that she had donned for the occasion, Estella halted in her step and, after nodding for Hermione to go on without her, cleared her throat nervously.

"Uh, I'm actually going to sit in the Gryffindor stands," she said, gesturing to her father's old House scarf in vague explanation. "I value my ears too much to subject them to Luna's roaring hat – you'd be welcome to join us, I'm sure…"

"No, it's all right," said John stiffly. "I wouldn't want to leave Reg to fend for himself. Besides, McGonagall might notice if _three_ Ravenclaws sneak into her stands" – he gestured to his plainly visible House colours – "we'd stand out…"

"Oh, well, okay then," said Estella uncertainly, not quite knowing what to do about the lost look on her friend's face. "I guess I'll see you after… it's not like we'd really be able to have a conversation during the game or anything anyway, right?"

John didn't answer; he merely shrugged slightly before turning and disappearing amongst a sea of students waiting to climb up into the Ravenclaw stands.

The first twenty minutes of the game was absolutely disastrous for Gryffindor. Overwhelmed by his nerves, Ron was flying almost blindly, letting four goals through before Gryffindor had even managed to score once. When the blanket of white clouds cleared to welcome blue skies and blazing sunlight directly into the Slytherin Keeper's eyes, however, the lion's luck began to turn. Heartened by the rapid succession of goals by the red and gold Chasers and jubilant when none other than Slytherin's key goal scorer and haughty blonde Seeker were, in turn, felled by deftly aimed Bludgers; Ron finally began to play in enviable form. The jeering refrains of the Slytherin's insulting song, _Weasley is our King_ no longer seemed to affect him, and by the time the hour was through, Gryffindor was winning by 60 points.

"Now _this_ is why Harry chose Ron for Keeper!" said Estella to Hermione, who nodded in agreement. "I do hope someone we know is recording this on their Omniculars so that we can show this performance to Ron next time he belittles his ability."

"Too right." Hermione had to shout to be heard over the deafening roar that had erupted around them as Harry began to dive, the substitute Slytherin Seeker proving no match to the Boy-Who-Lived.

Rising to her feet in excitement, Estella's joy soon turned to derision when she saw a victorious Harry knocked off his broom by a Bludger sent careening towards him from behind. Without wasting her breath on voicing her discontent at the illegal move, Estella concentrated on speeding down the stairs and getting to Harry.

"Are you all right?" Estella barrelled towards the growing crowd of Gryffindor players surrounding the figure sprawled on the grass.

"Course I am," said Harry grimly, accepting Ginny's hand in one hand, and Estella's in the other, allowing both girls to pull him to his feet. Overhead, Madam Hooch was zooming towards one of the Slytherin players, though they could not see who it was from their vantage point.

"It was that thug, Crabbe," said Ginny angrily, "he whacked the Bludger at you the moment he saw you'd got the Snitch – but we won, Harry, we won!"

'_Stating the obvious, much?_' Estella had wanted to say, as she rolled her eyes at Harry from her place slightly behind the eager Gryffindor Chaser. Seeing how the fiery redhead had pointedly stood in between she and Harry, Estella was amused by the fourth-year's subconscious possessiveness towards the bespectacled teen. Though Ginny had made a point of making her 'relationship' with Dean Thomas public, the way she hovered around Harry whenever Estella was near reminded the perceptive Ravenclaw of how John often behaved around perceived 'competition'.

Distracted suddenly by a sharp tug pulling her scarf from around her neck from behind, Estella spun around, her wand tickling her wrist from its inner-sleeve holster, to be faced with a familiar blonde Slytherin.

"What do you think you are doing?" Draco Malfoy brandished her father's scarf in the hand that had not been put into a sling. Having received his treatment on the sidelines, the injured Seeker had been watching the remainder of the match from his team's box and had only just made his way onto the field to commiserate with his teammates. Coming out to find Estella wrapped in the livery of the opposing team, expressing concern towards his nemesis when she'd not even thought to head over to the Slytherin stands to ask after him; Estella realised did not look good. Seeing the look on Draco's face, she unconsciously took a step back.

"Well?" Draco hissed impatiently, taking a step towards her to close the distance between them so that he could lean over her.

"Harry, leave it," said Estella sightlessly, hearing from the rustle of movement behind her that Harry had been about to intervene. Snatching her father's scarf out of Draco's grip, Estella sidestepped the indignant Slytherin and motioned for him to follow. Once they were a little way from prying ears, she gathered all her gumption and glared at the boy sternly. "Now, do you care to re-evaluate your approach?"

"No!" said Draco stubbornly. "You don't think I have a right to be mad when here you are _flaunting_ an association with _that_ Houseand rushing to _his_ aid, when I've been sitting in the stands with an injury for almost an hour-"

"-Awwww poor wittle Dwaco, jealous of the Boy-Who-Lived…" Estella raised a brow. "Aren't you getting a tad old for such insecurities?"

"I am _not_ jealous!" said Draco defensively, grabbing a hold of the scarf Estella had since wound back around her neck, pulling the girl towards him. "But do you have any idea how you're making me look? Surely you are not completely blind to the negotiations presently being drafted between our respective guardians? And how do you think your uncle – a man who has raised you since infancy – will be feeling right now, seeing you consorting with the team opposing his own House?"

"Whatever transpires between my uncle and I happens to be none of your business," said Estella firmly; "and I hardly think that whatever plans our _guardians_ are plotting for our futures should have any bearing on how we spend our _present_!"

Nostrils flaring in barely-controlled anger, Draco's mouth gaped open and closed a few times before he brushed past her bluntly and returned his ill attentions towards Harry – lest he say something to Estella that he'd later regret. By the time Estella had calmly rearranged her scarf and taken a few stabilising breaths; not moving back towards the growing crowd behind her until she had gotten control of herself, all manner of hell was breaking loose.

"Or perhaps," she heard Draco leer as she wandered back into earshot; "you can remember what _your_ mother's house stank like, Potter, and Weasley's pigsty reminds you of it-"

What happened next, Estella was not even sure a Pensieve could recreate with any clarity. All she knew was that Harry and George had attacked Draco and, after their teammates had managed to pull them off, she had straddled the fallen, bloodied Slytherin brutally and pulled him up by the collar of his robes.

"Take. It. Back!" she spat into his face, her face contorted into a blind rage. In shock, Draco's body was limp in her arms, and her knuckles glowed white as she hauled him upright with hidden strength.

"What… what…" Draco spluttered, almost frightened by her display.

"Lily Evans was twice the woman your mother could ever hope to be in two lifetimes!" she said, her throat constricting dangerously as tears blinded her eyes. "You take it back now, Draco Malfoy, or I swear to Merlin your life won't be worth living – I don't care what master you serve! You hear me?"

"Estella Black!" a cold, positively livid voice chilled her to the bone, bringing her back to her senses as a strong hand pulled her off the quivering, injured Slytherin by the scruff of her neck.

Wheeling around to ogle at the force who had pulled her away from strangling Draco with her father's scarf; Estella balked at the dark expression on her uncle's face. Worming herself out of the man's iron grip by shrugging off her outer cloak, she did the only thing she though she could do: she ran.

She didn't know how she had found her way into the old disused attic level that her godfather had taken her Boggart hunting in what seemed like a lifetime ago; but, collapsing gratefully into a musty old chair, Estella sought solace in her solitude. Through the stream of hot, burning tears, Estella wondered idly just what form her Boggart would take if she came across one right at that moment.

"I can't believe I did that!" she said angrily to herself, sneezing as she inhaled a lungful of dust and soot. If she hadn't just blown her cover with the Malfoys and irreparably damaged her uncle's position, it would be a miracle. Suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to confide in someone who could guide her with an objective mind, Estella did the one thing she'd sworn never to do.

"Uncle Remus?" she whispered into her mirror brokenly, pulling the small handheld item out of its place in her robes. "Moony, can you talk? Please be there…"

"Estella? What is it? What's wrong, cub?" Remus' concerned profile appeared almost immediately, and Estella had to wonder if he had a habit of staring at the mirror in anticipation.

"I stuffed up!" she let out a ragged sob.

Frowning, Remus wore an expression as though he wanted nothing more than to leap through the glass and comfort her; and Estella was grateful to him for it.

"All right now, cub, take a deep breath and start from the beginning. I'll be here," said Remus in his calm mediative voice. "Take your time. It's hardly ever as bad as we first think-"

"I attacked Draco in front of the entire school after he insulted Lily," Estella interrupted, as though challenging him.

"I did say, _hardly_ ever," said Remus lightly, his tone belying the growing concern on his face. Having been a part of his godchild's life since before she could remember, he was intimately aware of what such a public show of loyalties could mean for Severus' precarious position.

Chuckling mirthlessly, Estella leant back in her chair, coughing and spluttering when movement sent a cloud of dust billowing over her head. Seeing this, Remus tensed.

"Where are you? Please tell me you haven't left the school-"

"I haven't left the school," Estella deadpanned, relenting only when she saw the panic rise up in her godfather's eyes. "Honest! I'm in the… the… Boggart room, for lack of a better word. You know I cannot believe how little of the castle the school actually uses…"

"Estella, it's not healthy to run from your problems…" Remus' brow furrowed as he struggled to find the right words to placate the distraught child. "Why don't you tell me what happened, exactly?"

Estella began to explain the circumstances in which she had allowed her temper to get the better of her, becoming more and more self-effacing as she went.

"I was so stupid! I don't even know what set me off!" she said in mild disgust. "I had managed to hold back when he was talking about his dad and my uncle – you don't know how much I had wanted to wipe the superior look off his face by telling him I'd rather die than give Lucius Malfoy something he wants – but then when he started on Lily, with Harry, I just… I don't know, I just don't know!" She rubbed at her forehead in confusion. "I wasn't even that close with Lily, I mean, back then… yes, she was supposed to be my godmother, but I never got to know her like I do you; it's just a title-"

Remus nodded in understanding.

"Perhaps you were acting in defence of _Harry's_ feelings, rather than just your own?" he suggested. "I imagine you wouldn't like it if anyone said such things about your mother-"

"Well whatever I was doing, I don't know what I was thinking!" said Estella, frowning. "What am I supposed to do now? I've ruined _everything - _"

"All right, so you said some things to Draco Malfoy… and, er, attacked him… but, Estella, your uncle has been in this game a long time; I'm sure he can handle a fifteen year old boy. You should go and talk with him-"

"But he was so mad, Uncle Remus! You didn't see the look on his face!"

"Estella, I cannot speak for your uncle, but if all this happened in front of the school as you said, have you stopped to consider that perhaps his reaction was tempered by the mask he must where in public?" he paused, allowing Estella to ponder his words. When the child shrugged submissively, he continued. "Come now, cub, don't tell me you fear facing him – that's… that's not like you."

"I know. I'm not afraid… I'm just… _ashamed_, I guess." Estella bowed her head. "I really blew it, Uncle Remus. After all he's taught me I go and lose my temper like an undisciplined hothead!"

"Estella, you're a teenager. You're allowed to act impulsively," Remus assured her. "I've always maintained that Severus was expecting too much, throwing you into that role at such a young age. Children learn both by example and by their own mistakes. Trust me on this."

"Mistakes get people killed;" said Estella sullenly; mirroring the words her uncle had drilled into her. "But you know what? I can't undo it, and hiding up here is only prolonging my torment. I'd best go get it over with."

"Well don't look all excited!" said Remus. Sobering, he smiled approvingly. "I'm proud of you, Estella. Just remember that you've had to handle more than the average teenager; and all things considered you've done a better job than most adults. Don't let this one error of judgement get you down. All you can do is move on, and if Severus is as smart as he makes out, he'll know it too."

"Thanks, Uncle Remus. I knew I could count on you to know the right thing to say." said Estella.

"It's what I'm here for," said Remus, blowing her a kiss. "Good luck, I'll speak to you tomorrow."

Estella was just about to ask her godfather what he meant by that but he was gone, and then it hit her: tomorrow was her birthday.

"Happy Birthday to me," she drawled sarcastically to herself as she dusted her robes and made her way downstairs.

Once outside her uncle's quarters, Estella found she did not know what to do next. Though Remus' suggestion had quelled her unease, the look on her uncle's face still made her hesitate. Raising a clenched hand, she did the one thing she could not remember ever having done at that particular door before: she knocked. Complex charms layering the boundaries of the dungeon quarters prevented noise from inside travelling into the hallway; and so Estella had no warning for when the door would be answered. Just as she had been about to knock again, the wall disappeared and her hand met thin air.

"What are you doing, knocking?" her uncle said gruffly, looking as though he had just been interrupted. Before she could answer, he exhaled forcefully and grabbed her wrist, pulling her inside.

"I'm… I'm sorry…" said Estella dejectedly, trying to look over her shoulder at her uncle as he steered her towards the fireplace, his hand firmly resting between her shoulder blades, nudging her forward.

"So you should be," a voice from the fireplace caused Estella to freeze in her tracks.

Feeling her uncle stabilise his presence behind her back, neither forcing her forward nor giving her room for retreat, she looked up at him in silent question.

"I have just finished explaining to Mr Malfoy that your mother was… _close_… to Lily Potter; and that your valuing of her opinion is the only way you can feel close to her."

Estella nodded mutely, unwilling to volunteer any information when she did not know where her uncle was going to take his line of questioning.

"I'm not an unreasonable man, Estella," said Lucius, his voice dripping with false securities. "I'll grant that a child could be compelled to defend the choices of a parent… but that does not mean that I can accept harm befalling my son."

"_I_ didn't hurt him!" she protested quietly, though she knew it was pointless to argue. Above her head, Estella could see the two men exchange a silent look. Coming around in front of her, her uncle drew his wand fluidly and balanced each end between his fingers as he spoke.

"Lucius has insisted on bearing witness to your punishment; and I have received permission from the High Inquisitor to discipline you at my discretion, as is my right as your guardian." Although Severus had his back to the fireplace and could have taken the opportunity to impart a silent message to his niece, Estella could deduct nothing from his empty expression.

Standing firm, Estella braced herself for the worst; knowing full well that her actions earlier had consequences and her uncle was powerless to prevent the chain of events, lest he blow his cover. Thinking that it would help them both, she looked up at her uncle pleadingly.

"May I turn around?" she asked resignedly, nodding to give consent to the use of magic on her, as the school wards now required for certain, protected students.

Severus regarded her with an odd expression on his face before turning and looking to the figure in the fireplace for approval. Only when Lucius motion his assent did he nod at his niece.

Turning to face the armchair she had spent many an evening of her childhood curled up in with a book, Estella winced when she heard Lucius' Malfoy's next words.

"Just make her scream, Severus." the maliciousness in the man's voice was unmistakable, and Estella did not have to turn to visualise the look the man was undoubtedly wearing.

A whispered spell and the sound of wood slicing the air was the only warning Estella got before the spell hit her back. Far from being localised, the pain rapidly spread to every inch of her body with staggering force. All at once, her body felt on fire, as though under the ministration of thousands of tiny knifes prickling her every nerve. Taking an involuntary step forward, she staggered until she could stand no longer. Falling to her knees, she leant forward, bracing herself up with one arm whilst the other clawed at her skin, trying to soothe an ache that would not abate. Her eyes fixed on the floor; she fought to hold back the scream that was caught in her throat. Swallowing determinedly, she concentrated instead on regulating her breathing, which, by now, was coming in hoarse, ragged gasps.

"You are not trying hard enough, Severus!" said Lucius accusingly, disappointed because the girl he wished to curse into submission would not break.

"Lucius, it remains apparent that she is rather determined not to indulge your perversion," said Severus in a strained voice, lowering his wand and ending the spell. "I will not risk permanent damage to satisfy your whims. She has learnt her lesson."

"But-" Lucius' voice was petulant.

"Perhaps you ought not to have announced your intent to hear her scream," said Severus in a silky tone, casting an eye back towards his niece, who was curled up on the floor facing away from them, her whole body heaving as she fought to steady her breathing. "Now, if that will be all, Lucius-"

Fighting to get a glimpse of the girl from where the dark-robed man had strategically stood in the way of his view, Lucius relented. "Very well, Severus," he said smoothly. "Do consider your invitation for Christmas. Narcissa will simply be delighted to see you and Estella again."

No sooner had Lucius severed the Floo connection did Severus act. Crossing the room purposefully, he retrieved a small vial he'd set aside and made his way to his niece's side. Before he could reach her, she was pulling herself up into a sitting position. Setting the vial down on a low table behind her, Severus hastened to assist the child, squatting down to her level and gently trying to stop her movement.

"Wait til you have had your potion," he said.

Something in the way her uncle had kept the potion on hand and just referred to it as 'hers' made something within Estella to fold up into a hard, impenetrable ball.

"You knew!" she said in a low, quiet voice. Her uncle had known what sort of punishment Lucius would have expected, and still he didn't warn her. She stared at the vial in her uncle' hand but made no move to accept it.

"Estella-" Severus was at a loss for words and he rocked back on his heels in contemplation. "Of course I knew! You foolish child, why did you knock? Did you really suppose that I would have changed the password to keep you out of our quarters without reason?" he ran a weary hand over his face in frustration. "Why did you give me permission? I could have told Lucius that your father had invoked a blood ritual to protect you -"

"Oh, so it's all _my_ fault then, is it?" snapped Estella. "I'm supposed to be able to read your mind, am I? Maybe I knocked because I thought I no longer had a right to use a password. _Maybe_ I knocked because last time I turned up unannounced Lucius Malfoy was sitting in your chair! Maybe I gave you my permission because I _trusted you_, and I didn't want to blow your cover anymore than I already have today! Or maybe the fact Lucius is well aware of the Governor's latest ruling had something to do with it!"

"Estella-" Severus began haltingly, holding the vial closer to her. "Take the potion."

Swiping the back of her hand towards her uncle's wrist, Estella knocked the potion out of his hand, sending it tumbling towards the floor where it shattered on impact; it's contents pooling on the cold stone amidst a hissing mist.

"I don't want your stinking potion."

"Why must you insist on making things difficult for yourself? I could have let up after two seconds had you reacted as Lucius had wished; and now after enduring the spell for ten seconds, you are refusing treatment?" said Severus, trying his best to alleviate some of his own guilt.

"I would never give that monster the satisfaction," said Estella bitterly, a determined look in her eye. "Never again."

Pulling herself up by the table and a nearby chair, Estella stood shakily.

"If that will be all-" she said in clipped tones, all prior intentions pertaining to any guilt she'd felt about her foolish actions all but forgotten. The more she thought about it, the more she realised that her godfather had been right: yes she had made a mistake, but she was still young, and oughtn't to be punished for her inexperienced learning curve.

"No, that will not be all," said Severus tiredly, slightly grating at his niece's attitude since meetings with Lucius had, of late, a habit of trying his patience. "You will sit in your chair and not exert yourself again until I return from my office with another vial."

Humouring him, Estella allowed herself to be assisted to her armchair by the fire; only as soon as he vacated the room she pulled herself back up and made for the door, determined to leave the dungeon quarters. While deep down she knew that her uncle would never turn his wand on her by choice, she could not help but feel slightly betrayed by the man's apparent lack of trying. The idea of her uncle treating her as though she were older and more capable of handling adult responsibilities was not new, but when combined with the protective nature of her father and godfather, the two extremes never failed to confuse her.

"Estella!" a worried voice signalled to Estella that she was not alone in the usually isolated corridor. A slight movement in the shadows ahead of her heralded the presence of a slightly built blonde Slytherin hurrying towards her. Her shaking hands slipping on the damp, slippery stone wall as she struggled to keep herself upright and moving forward, Estella stumbled into a pair of waiting arms.

In a strange, almost uncharacteristically kind voice, Draco Malfoy pulled her toward him and spoke. "I came as soon as I could. Merlin, Estella, what did he do?"

"Why are you so surprised, Draco? Estella said snappishly, too tired to talk any further.

"I'm not, I just... you... you always... I'm just surprised. All right, I _am_ surprised! Can you blame me?"

"Draco," she cut him off with some effort, for her voice was barely audible. "Nothing like this has ever happened before. There was... there was an _audience_. He had no choice."

Draco looked taken aback. "Then I have even more cause to be disappointed," he said soberly. "If your uncle cannot even stand up to my father, then what chance do I stand?"

"Where are you leading me?" Estella asked suddenly, choosing to ignore Draco's earlier comment because she found herself without an answer.

"My common room-" Estella stiffened and halted in her tracks. Draco maintained a firm but gentle grip on her, coaxing her forward. "-It's closest. No one would think to look for you there... don't look at me like that! They won't! When was the last time you dropped by? Come, I have a potion that will help you, and I assure you that the Slytherin house elves are very discreet."

Allowing the gentle, considerate wizard to guide her towards the Slytherin commons, Estella had to admit that the boy's plan had some merit. Even if she had the strength to make it to the hospital wing, Estella knew that her condition would raise too many questions; and loath as she was to admit it, the students of her house would not be as understanding. Deep down, she had some misgivings about placing her trust in Draco while she was so particularly vulnerable. Then again, something about the blond boy's unprecedented concern and gentleness with her fuelled the little voice inside her head that had always been reluctant to write-off the Malfoy heir. If she was truly honest with herself, despite how dangerous or malevolent he may be towards those he deemed lesser than him, he'd never posed a threat to _her, _let alone wished her harm.

"Thank you," she muttered meaningfully as he assisted her to a couch in an easily over-looked corner of the sprawling dungeon common room, sending a group of loitering House members packing with a well-placed glare and wave of his hand as he did so.

"Will you be all right here for a moment while I fetch the potion from my trunk?" Draco looked down at her hesitantly. "I'm sure it would be redundant of me to assure you that my fellow Slytherins will hardly react as adversely as we have so unjustly been credited-"

Tucking the worn Gryffindor scarf she still wore discreetly out of sight, Estella sank gratefully into the cool leather of the couch and willed her twitching nerves to relax.

"What, not going to invite me to your room, Draco?" she teased. Sobering at the somewhat scandalised look he shot her, she nodded. "Relax, I'll be fine. The upper years ought to remember me from my previous visits and the lower years surely know better than to ask questions."

Nodding once in agreement, Draco turned to leave, but paused in his tracks.

"I do apologise. How rude of me - Asphodel! -" With a snap of his fingers a house elf wearing a Slytherin-themed pillowslip appeared, and Estella couldn't help but smirk at the Slytherin tradition of naming house elves after potion ingredients. Draco continued; "The house elf will see to any of your immediate needs. I will return momentarily."

With a practiced flourish, Draco spun on his heel and took off towards the boy's dormitories without a backward glance, leaving an obedient house elf in his stead.

"Does Master Malfoy's visitor require a refreshment from the kitchens?" the young-looking elf looked at her politely.

"Not at this moment," Estella shook her head. "But you could keep me company... tell me, how long have you served Slytherin House? It mustn't be long if you do not know me. You must be the youngest house elf I've ever seen!"

"If it pleases you, miss, I am the youngest on staff. I am the eleventh generation of my line to serve the House of Slytherin. I have been in service for one year, three months and twelve days…"

The first thing Estella couldn't help but notice about this strange little elf was just how much more articulate she was compared to most of the other house elves she had ever come across. While house elves normally did not become in the service of their masters until they had reached a specific age - of which Estella doubted this elf had attained - she could tell immediately why an exception may have been made. Not only did this elf appear to be smarter than other elves, but if it were true that her line had served the House for _eleven_ generations, then it was quite possible that her ancestor had been chosen for service by Salazar Slytherin himself.

"If you pardon me asking, Miss," Asphodel ventured after a pause. "You have an interest in house elves?"

"Not really," said Estella, immediately regretting her words, lest she offend the creature. "Sorry, that came out wrong. What I mean is that I had to learn a lot about them last year when a friend of mine tried to free you all-"

"You are friends with Hermione Granger?" Asphodel took a step back in alarm, as though suddenly afraid that Estella may burden her with clothes, setting her free.

"Yes, she is an acquaintance, but don't worry, I never agreed with what she was trying to do. I made myself learn about house elves so I could try and convince her that you didn't all want to be freed." said Estella diplomatically.

Asphodel smiled in appreciation, but before either could continue their conversation further, Draco returned.

"Bring us some supper," he demanded, and with a snap of his fingers, the house elf popped out of sight.

"Well, that was rather rude, don't you think?" said Estella. "Asphodel and I were in the middle of a conversation. Did you know her line has served this House for _eleven _generations?"

"So, what of it?" said Draco, falling onto the couch beside Estella and offering her a goblet of potion. "The line of that elf, Dobby, had served my father's family for seven generations and look what happened there."

"With all due respect, Dray," she said, reverting back to her childhood name for him as the informality of the setting allowed. "After having experienced your father's _hospitality_, I cannot blame Dobby for defecting. Surely you can realise that loyalty comes not from blood or tradition but rather from the heart."

Draco looked at her with a strange expression on his face, his eyes never leaving hers as he considered her words. Averting her eyes shyly, Estella felt her cheeks flush with heat and she shifted uncomfortably.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked, breaking all conversation as she took the goblet from Draco and, after inspecting it quickly, downed it in one mouthful. Explaining her hesitation apologetically, she shrugged. "Sorry, force of habit... still as gross as ever."

They sat in companionable silence as they waited for the potion to take effect. Feeling her nerve endings beginning to settle and relax, Estella breathed a sigh of relief.

"You know-" she said suddenly, "it's rather ironic..."

"What is?"

"Oh, nothing..." said Estella, knowing that it would not be entirely appropriate to tell Draco that she had taunted his father by ridiculing the boy's abilities during her incarceration that previous June. Frowning slightly at the realisation that she had perhaps underestimated Draco, she bowed her head. "I'm sorry."

"Whatever for?" Draco asked, pulling back to look at her fully.

"For underestimating you," she said. "Everyone sees you as your father's son... and... and you let them, don't you? But you're not like him at all, are you?"

"Yes I am!" said Draco defensively, a panicked look in his eyes as he scanned the room urgently, as though trying to make sure no one was listening.

"Don't play me for a fool, _little Dragon;" _she revelled in the shock on the reticent Slytherin's face as she used Narcissa's pet name for her son. "You may epitomise what it is to be a Malfoy when it comes to claiming your place in the hierarchy, but you know as well as I do that Lucius Malfoy is not capable of compassion."

"So this is what you think this is?" Draco raised a brow at her in challenge.

"All right, so you could be doing this to try and lure me in to some grand scheme of your father's, but I don't think you are-"

"And why is that?" he asked in a whisper, leaning in close. "I am as adept at closing my mind as any trained Occlumens, there is no possible way you can read my intentions-"

"Oh, there isn't?" Estella quirked a brow in equal challenge. "Then why don't you sound so sure?"

Leaning back into the couch, Draco ran a hand through his meticulously groomed hair, ruffling it up in the process.

"What do you want from me, Estella? I know you don't... don't like what is happening... what my father is trying to do…" he frowned, unusually inarticulate as he tried to find the right words. "-I know you don't like me, Estella, but... but I want you to know that I wouldn't-"

"Draco," Estella interrupted him. "It's not that I don't... I mean... I just... I don't take too well to being forced into situations I have no control over. It's nothing personal."

Draco blinked at her, his mouth slightly agape, before smiling slightly.

"Well that's something I'd say we can agree on."

"Yeah, I suppose so," she nodded slowly, rather disconcerted with the realisation that Draco appeared amenable to his father's plans.

A slight crack preceded the return of the young house elf, Asphodel, bearing a tray of goods. Accepting a plate of cake gratefully, Estella yawned and stared at the food.

"On second thoughts, she said, casting the plate aside. "I'm too exhausted to lift a fork… I should probably get back to my common room while I still have the ability to stand – if I could just use your Floo-"

"Nonsense, go back and have to explain yourself? In your condition? Rest first, then you may go," said Draco, wrapping an arm around her shoulder to take the fork from her hand. "Here, let me help you with that-"

"Draco, I can feed myself!" Estella protested weakly as the blonde boy cut a piece of cake and raised the fork towards her.

"You said you were too exhausted to lift a fork," said Draco, waving said utensil in front of her face playfully. "You'll feel better for having eaten something – you know you will! Now come on, I promise not to use this against you… hell, I doubt anyone would believe that I would ever do it at all-"

Entirely too comfortable and tired to argue, Estella submitted herself to Draco's ministrations. From this angle, with her leaning against a warm body as strong arms enclosed her, the one around her shoulders dexterously holding the plate in front of her and catching the crumbs, all Estella had to do was open her mouth and accept the small portions of chocolate cake the boy was offering her. Physically and emotionally sated though half the slice remained, Estella shook her head and closed her eyes contently. What happened next Estella could not be sure if it were a manifestation of her mind, or Draco's. Flashes of thought, of images, passed into her as she found herself falling asleep, lulled by the sedatives she knew were infused in the potion and further hypnotised by the steady breathing of the force next to her. Upon seeing projected images of a wedding day, of a loving couple feeding each other wedding cake, Estella jerked in shock and gasped softly. Beside her, Draco's hold on her tightened reflexively and he murmured sleepily into her hair.

"Shhh… just rest a while… you'll feel better… try not to think so much…"

Unable to put up any resistance – for Estella suddenly doubted that she even had cause to – she allowed her eyes to drift closed once more. The last thing that crossed her mind before she lost total consciousness was that the younger Malfoy didn't just see them together because of a supposed blood debt – he really, actually liked her. In a lot of ways, she knew that his infatuation towards her was not that much different to how she viewed Harry – for while she had been raised with the idea that she and Harry would have been like siblings had things turned out a little differently, Draco had undoubtedly been raised with the knowledge that his future spouse would be none other than the daughter of a Black. While it did surprise her that Draco appeared sincere in not wanting go ahead with the planned union unless she reciprocated his feelings, her resolve to never let Lucius Malfoy get what he wanted was stronger than any emerging feelings she may ever begin to feel towards this new sensitive side of Draco.

'_I won't fall for him! I won't_' she scolded herself repeatedly as sleep finally claimed her.

When next Estella was aware of her surroundings, she was lying down in a dark room. Swallowing the rising panic when she realised she still had her wand, Estella sat up and took a few calming breaths. Casting a weak lighting spell and realising immediately that she was in her bedroom in her uncle's quarters, she pushed aside the guilt she felt at having misjudged Draco so readily and ran a hand through her hair. Activating the lamps in her room, she got up to find that she was still fully clothed. She could only speculate that her uncle must have happened upon her in the Slytherin common room and brought her back with him. Stilling her movements, Estella tried to detect any movement outside her door but could hear none. Casting a refreshing charm on her robes, she spelled the tangles out of her hair and made her way out of the room. When she found her uncle's rooms empty, she set out to look for him. Only when her stomach began to rumble as she reached the sunlit cloisters on the ground floor did she realise the time, and it as while on her way to the Great Hall for breakfast that she heard it – music. Descending a staircase that led to another wing of the dungeons, Estella made her way towards the curious noise. Before she could reach her destination, however, she tripped on thin air and landed heavily on the floor, a warm, heavy mass knocking the wind out of her as it landed on top of her.

"What the-?" she protested, her words cut off by an invisible, cloaked hand over her mouth.

"Shhh!" a familiar voice whispered into her ear urgently, tugging his cloak away slightly so he could gesture wordlessly towards the door nearby.

Correctly guessing what Harry was trying to do, she accepted a place under his cloak and pressed her ear up against the door.

"…cannot afford mistakes, Draco, because if you are expelled-"

Estella gasped quietly to hear her uncle's voice, apparently talking to Draco, whose voice she heard next.

"I didn't have anything to do with it, all right?"

"I hope you are telling me the truth, because it was both clumsy and foolish. Irrespective of if the bearer was the intended target, the carelessness of the delivery method endangered my niece's life. Thankfully she was intelligent enough not to touch it, but I warn you now, I don't take too well to such threats to her life-"

"After what you did to her last night, I find that hard to believe-"

"I thought we agreed not to discuss that!"

Beside her, Estella could feel Harry's eyes bore into her in silent question. Ignoring him, she pretended to be preoccupied with listening to the conversation beyond the door.

"I acted no differently than what your own father would have – are you suggesting that he would not take measures to ensure your safety?"

"That's exactly what I am suggesting – don't look at me like that! I know what you are doing, I'm not stupid, but it won't work – I can stop you!"

There was a pause and then her uncle said quietly, "Ah, Aunt Bellatrix has been teaching you Occlumency, I see. What thoughts are you trying to conceal from your master, Draco?"

Harry made a small noise of indignation, and Estella was unsure if the boy beside her were satisfied at the revelation Draco was in the service of a master, or if he were put out by the realisation that Draco Malfoy was successful at something he was far from mastering: Occlumency. Listening to Draco's staunch denial, Estella had a feeling that she knew just what Draco was trying to conceal from interfering minds; and what's more, she duly suspected that she had been afforded a view of those thoughts the night before. When she heard next that Draco had been ignoring her uncle's summons, she couldn't help but suspect that he was maybe, just maybe, hiding something else; and she knew that despite the warnings to stay away, she was probably in the best position to find out just what it was.

"Listen to me," said her uncle, in a low, quiet voice Estella recognised as a sign of his exasperation. "I am trying to help you. I swore to your mother I would protect you. I made the Unbreakable Vow, Draco-"

Estella's hands flew to her mouth as she struggled to muffle her cry of surprise. Shuffling movements on the other side of the door alerted the eavesdropping pair and they backed away from the door, flattening themselves against the far wall, the cloak barely concealing them both from the emerging Slytherins.

"Would you care to tell me what that was all about?" asked Harry once they were alone. "What happened last night?"

"My uncle made an Unbreakable Vow!" she exclaimed, in shock. "Do you know what that means?"

"Er, no, I don't actually-" said Harry.

"I can only hope that the vow was conditional," Estella's voice shook as she spoke more to herself than to the confused boy before her. "How could he be so careless? From the sound of it, if anything _ever_ happens to Draco, my uncle will be in breach of the Vow…and that could cost him his life in the most unimaginable way!"

"Why would your uncle go to such lengths to protect the enemy?" asked Harry.

Bristling slightly at the label, 'enemy', Estella found that she had the same question. The more she thought about her uncle's recent behaviour, the more she began to doubt his loyalties. What drove him to enter into an Unbreakable Vow with Narcissa Malfoy? Had he entered into a similar arrangement with Lucius, pertaining to her? She'd never thought it would be possible, but then again she'd never expected her uncle would submit himself to an Unbreakable Vow in the first place. And what of last night's punishment? Why not maintain that she had ignored his summons like Draco seems to have done habitually. The question of how Lucius even came to learn of the exchange between herself and Draco so quickly was something else she could not comprehend. What if, by going to live with her father full time, she had inadvertently driven her uncle back to the Dark side?

Shaking sense into herself, Estella scolded herself mentally. Knowing her uncle, she knew that he would not have entered into such a Vow unless he needed to reinforce his position as a spy. Furthermore, it was ludicrous that he would ever promise her to Lucius, knowing how she felt about it, as was the mere thought that her absence had driven him back to the Dark Lord's side. He knew where her loyalties stood, and so surely realised that to take such a step would lose her, irrespective of if he were her guardian or not.

"Hey… hey!" Harry waved a hand in front of her face frantically. "You're not allowed to frown on your birthday. Give your mind a break and try not to think so much for a change."

Instantly reminded of something Draco had said, Estella smirked at the irony – if only they knew how alike they truly were. Her smirk quickly turned into a grin when it hit her that she was now fourteen.

"Now, that's better!" said Harry, throwing an arm around her shoulder and whispering birthday accolades into her ear. "You had breakfast, yet?"

"Nope, you?"

"I grabbed a bite at Slughorn's Halloween Breakfast," said Harry, cringing at the memory.

"Oh, so that's what all that racket was! Guess he scheduled a breakfast because no one in their right mind would want to miss the Halloween Feast!"

"What, like you made us do in your first year to go to the Deadthday Party?" Harry teased.

"Yes, well I did warn you to eat something before hand!" Estella reminded him, pulling away suddenly. Calling back at him over her shoulder, she challenged him to a race. "Beat you to the Great Hall!"

Breakfast flew by uneventfully, with the exception of a few impatient Ravenclaws waiting to wish her well. To John's chagrin, Estella insisted that they all join the Gryffindors for the morning meal… Harry, after all, being family to her now. Surprisingly, though, the two seemed to handle each other's presence with good humour, such was the magic of birthdays. It wasn't until classes began that things began to unravel. Of all the days for Dolores Umbridge to schedule an observation of the fourth year classes it just had to be her birthday; and far from being fooled by the so-called coincidence of the woman's timing, Estella was determined to make the most of it.

The week of detentions she 'earned' from the woman while she had been 'observing' the class in Transfiguration had been well worth it: the look on the toad's face when Estella had _accidentally_ caused her mouse to leap up and fall down the neckline of the woman's blouse was an image she'd treasure forever. Of course, it went without saying that she was sorry for having resigned the mouse to such a grisly fate; after having shaken it out of her clothing, Umbridge had been quick to crush it under the heel of her shoe. But then again she supposed it was probably a nicer fate than if she had actually tried to transfigure it into anything, given her track record with live-animal transfigurations.

In the aftermath, even Professor McGonagall had a difficult time keeping a straight face, and for the first time, Estella was grateful that the stern teacher's opinion of her had changed once her father's innocence had been made public. Had she disrupted the lesson like this in first year, it wouldn't have mattered to McGonagall if she had just transfigured Voldemort into a teacup, she would have been toast. Now, as the elderly woman went to work swiftly dispelling Umbridge's suspicion that she had thrown the mouse at her deliberately by confirming her ineptitude in the subject, Estella could just tell that her father's former Head of House was likely reliving any number of incidents the Marauders had tested her with in their day. It was clear that the Deputy Headmistress did not wish to seek punishment for what was 'in her expert opinion', an accident; but with the imposition of one Educational Decree after another, the woman's hands were tied, and Umbridge was left with the 'duty' of assigning disciplinary measures.

If, after that incident, Estella had been hoping that the High Inquisitor would stop singling her out, she was sadly mistaken. When her uncle had tried to slip her another dose of potion when he'd noticed her hands shaking as she was handing up her assignment at the beginning of the next class, Umbridge had first accused her uncle of favouritism; and then suggested that her uncle should go back to teaching Potions should he feel so compelled to administer unauthorised dosages in class. To make matters worse, because Umbridge had intervened before Estella could imbibe the potion in question, by the time she had found her seat and pulled out her books she was no longer capable of maintaining a hold on her quill. That she then knocked her ink pot over just as the woman was passing her desk, sending ink spilling out onto the High Inquisitor's robes was truly an unfortunate coincidence… one Estella hardly felt sorry for given the circumstances, but accidental nonetheless. The class had subsequently ended in a precarious showdown between the High Inquisitor and her uncle. Severus could not detail the cause of Estella's shaking, and yet he couldn't in his right mind take the malevolent woman's side in accusing his niece of deliberately creating a nuisance given the true cause of her ailment. Instead, he worked hard at convincing the High Inquisitor that Estella's shaking was indicative of her having missed a dose of a potion she had been required to take ever since the 'incident' in June; for whilst the Ministry had been fully unable to accept Lucius Malfoy's involvement in Estella's disappearance, in acknowledging Voldemort's return, Scrimgeour's administration accepted that she had been kidnapped and subjected to 'unspeakable' horrors.

Buying this explanation, albeit begrudgingly, Umbridge made no move to retract her previous statement, instead admonishing Estella for carelessly and irresponsibly missing a dose of her medication and chastising her for disrupting class with her silence. A mix of Occlumency and imaginative thinking was all that stopped Estella from hexing the woman to next Christmas – picturing the uncoordinatedly attired woman as a cross-dressing Muppet served well to keep her in good humour. Knowing too that her uncle would owe her big time after this because she did not attempt to contradict the man's cover story with the truth gave her a sense of accomplishment. It was not often that Severus Snape was at her mercy, and in fact, Estella was hard pressed to recall such an event having ever taken place before.

Of course, the thought did occur to Estella as she was heading to lunch that her uncle's punishment of her had been necessary to maintain his favour with the overbearing Malfoy patriarch, but as rational as Estella considered herself to be that excuse wore thin when she could see several unexplored avenues that could have prevented it from ever happening. Whether it was her age and inexperience in subterfuge showing through or her hormones clouding her ability to approach things objectively, Estella could only conclude that her uncle simply didn't try hard enough to spare her Lucius' brand of discipline and that because he had chosen the perceivably easier path, then perhaps a small part of her uncle believed that she had deserved to be treated in such a way. Her mood, therefore, as she sat down for an impromptu birthday lunch with her friends, was decidedly glum.

"What's with the long face?" John asked her quietly, a deepening look of concern on his face as he noticed Estella picking at her food half-heartedly. "You're not hungry?"

Estella shrugged and continued to push her food around her plate aimlessly; her mind lost in thought. John sighed and waved a hand in front of her face to get her attention.

"This…" he leant in close and gestured towards her plate and slumped form; "this doesn't have anything to do with what happened in your uncle's class, does it?"

Shrugging again, Estella sighed. "Well I also happen to be a bit confused as to why neither Remus or my Dad have tried to contact me yet for my birthday. My godfather, I can understand, but this is the first birthday since Dad's been out of Azkaban – well, since I got to know him, anyway – and, well, _nothing_. Not even an Owl! It just doesn't make sense… he seemed so excited… I can't help but wonder if perhaps something has happened and no one wants to tell me yet because it's my birthday."

"I'm sure it's nothing," said John, though he wasn't too convincing. "You're just at odds because Umbridge has it in for you today… which reminds me, what happened in Defence, exactly? Why were you shaking? What was that potion? Was it really to treat side effects from what happened in June?"

Estella nodded stiffly, her heart crushed by the prospect of lying. Nodding was all she could do without lying outright. As it stood, insinuating that the incident in class was tied to what happened in June was not entirely a stretch for what had happened in both occasions was directly linked by one common denominator: Lucius Malfoy.

Before John could question her further, Estella's other friends, together with a pair of redheads and Harry and Hermione, made a spectacle of approaching the Ravenclaw table behind a small army of House Elves that were dwarfed by a massive birthday cake on their shoulders. The surprise festivities quickly dispensed with, a great majority of the school population enjoying a serving of cake with their meal; Estella paused to consider her friend's remarkable feat.

"How'd you pull it off?" she asked, casting a cautious look at the Head table. "Umbridge would not have allowed this if she knew… where is she, anyway? I don't think it's a coincidence that she's not here to interrupt."

"Uh, well, Fred and George should have both her and Filch demonstrably detained for the next hour," said Harry sheepishly. "I wouldn't recommend going into the south-east wing of the dungeons for the next day."

"But that's where my uncle's quarters are!" Estella exclaimed, eyes widening in shock.

"Oh?" said Harry, smiling wistfully as he cast a casual look up to where Professor Snape sat, oblivious to the instant swamp that now blocked the path to his quarters. "I'm sure he won't mind. It is, after all, for a good cause."

Chuckling dryly, Estella shook her head in amazement. "Why if I don't know any better, I'd say that was positively Slytherin, Harry James Potter."

"Speaking of Slytherins," Harry growled in an undertone, his attention drawn by the approach of one Draco Malfoy.

"Estella, a moment, please?" said a voice from behind her, alerting her to Draco's presence for the first time.

Looking to Harry in question, Estella hesitated. Sighing, Harry nodded his consent, but grabbed her hand before she could rise fully.

"Meet me back here before classes resume, yeah? I have something for you," he said.

Nodding, Estella squeezed his hand in assurance before allowing herself to be led away by his childhood nemesis.

"What can I do for you, Draco?" said Estella, coming to a halt against the wall closest to the front of the hall; within view of any teachers who happened to look into the little-used corner, but easily overlooked by the students a few feet away. "As you no doubt heard I am expected back momentarily."

Draco looked torn; appearing both reticent that his sworn enemy had staked a claim to the girl his parents had intended for him since his birth, and eager to indulge her needs.

"That's all right," he said finally, choosing the latter. Pulling a small, carefully wrapped package from his robes and holding it out towards her, he stared down at his feet. "I don't expect you to open it now… you wouldn't be you if you didn't have it checked first. I just didn't want it to stop me from acknowledging your birthday."

Remembering the conversation she had overheard earlier that day, and becoming somewhat suspicious of the boy's intentions when it appeared that he'd foregone the opportunity to give her a gift through her uncle, she made no move to take the small box.

"Why did you not give this to my uncle to pass on?" she asked warily.

"Oh for goodness sake, it's not a Portkey!" said Draco, the faintest traces of hurt in his voice. Gesturing towards subtly towards the Head Table where their movements had caught her uncle's eyes, he went on. "I didn't give this to your uncle because he has a habit of intercepting my family's gifts to you… rightfully so in some instances, knowing my father's tastes; but I didn't want to take that risk."

Staring into Draco's eyes searchingly, Estella relented, and hesitantly took the ribboned parcel from him.

"Fair enough," she said beseechingly. "But goodness, where are my manners? Thank you for your thought."

Though he had resigned himself to Estella taking his present away to be tested before opening it, Estella did not miss his hopeful look as he lingered. Tugging the end of the ribbon tentatively, Estella unravelled the bindings, allowing the soft, feather-thin parchment to flutter to the floor, revealing a small velvet box.

"Draco…" said Estella uncomfortably, images of the boy before her having given her a ring of some importance flying through her mind. She was distinctly reminded of the vision the young Malfoy had projected to her when last they were together.

Dispelling and further concerns, Draco took the small case from her and opened it; pulling out a small, delicate piece of metal and holding it between his fingers so she could see that it was safe.

"It's a nib," he explained, an inexplicable nervousness in his voice. "I wanted to get something you would use. Something that wouldn't stand out… but it's not just any nib."

Curious, Estella took the small piece of metal from him and inspected it closely, her eyes shimmering in appreciation as the light caught the fine etchings decorating its surface.

"Runes, Draco?" she asked, squinting to try and make out the fine transcription and failing.

"Custom-made. They spell the nib to assist penmanship;" Draco explained. "Not that I think your handwriting needs work, but it also performs the perfunctory task of spell-checking and dictation… for when you get writer's cramp," he paused. "I know a nib is useless without a feather, but I didn't want to impose one of those upon you when I am certain you already have a wonderful collection. I actually have one of these myself and can speak for its quality" – he paused – "I… I… have to warn you though that the material is silver. The runes have to be etched into a precious metal in order to take effect and all but silver are either too soft or brittle." – Estella stared at him pointedly – "If you cannot accept this for… for… _family_ reasons, then I'll understand."

Placing the nib back in its case, which she then took from Draco, Estella shook her head.

"No, it's fine, really," she said, favouring the boy with a smile. "Of course, I will have to do some reading to ensure that my handling silver will in no way leave a residue on my skin – I mean I can make sure that my godfather doesn't use any of my stationery, but I would never forgive myself if he suffered at my hand."

Draco nodded in understanding, his prejudices being confined to Muggles and Muggleborns. Truth be told, though he viewed himself as being superior to Magical Creatures – especially those who were financially destitute - he had no qualms with his former Defence teacher. Many students of Slytherin House would never admit it, but it was undeniable that Remus Lupin had been a commendable, fair and efficient teacher.

"Very well," said Draco. "Know that I would have questioned the silversmith at length but I assumed that you would have appreciated the discretion of independent study."

"Completely. Thank you, Draco. That was most thoughtful," said Estella, touched by the fact that he knew that she liked to find things out for herself. "You're right in saying that I will have wanted to verify the facts independently."

"They didn't make you a Ravenclaw for nothing," said Draco warmly, his lips curling into a smile. "Many happy returns for the day, I hope whatever your acquaintances did to keep Umbridge away keeps her detained for as long as possible."

"You don't miss a trick," Estella stated, leaning forward on her tiptoes to kiss the tall boy's cheek in thanks. "Thank you for the nib. I'll use it – I know just the feather – I'll wear gloves if I have to. It will work out."

Draco's smile widened, his joy travelling all the way to his eyes and beyond. For a brief moment, Estella was caught off-guard by how charming the Malfoy heir actually looked by smiling like that, so out of character. Squeezing her arm in acknowledgement, he began to turn and back away.

"You should do that more often," Estella called after him, a grin tugging on her lips. "Smile like that, I mean. It's very becoming of _you_."

Hearing the emphasis of her last word, Draco turned back and regarded her with an unreadable look.

"With you around, it's hard not to," he said smoothly, his lips twitching compulsively before he commanded control of his features, stalking off once more with his arrogant, Malfoy gait firmly in place.

Estella was still slumped against the wall, her mind still reeling from the evidence that depicted Draco as being truly affected by her acceptance of his gift when Harry rounded the end of the long table between them and approached.

"Are you all right?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder at Malfoy's retreating form.

"Why wouldn't I be? Draco just wanted to pass on his regards for my birthday," said Estella nonchalantly, shoving the small box into her pocket.

"Yes, well you might not want to go back to your table just yet, because your _boyfriend_ seems to think there was more to it than that," said Harry.

"He's _not_ my boyfriend!" said Estella edgily. "I just enjoy his company… much like I enjoy yours, and even Draco's – when he's in his present mood, that is…" she sighed at Harry's affronted look. "I don't expect you to understand."

"Good, cause I don't," said Harry, making a face. "And John sure as hell doesn't. You gotta be straight with him, Estella-"

"Harry, just because I agreed to hang out with him in Hogsmeade _one_ time, and then helped him to prepare for the Quidditch try-outs, it doesn't automatically imply that I have to answer to him about anything. Obviously if he has that impression I will have to set him straight, but not today – after the morning I just had, is it asking too much to end the day on a high note?" said Estella.

"So, you're still keen on the whole 'we have no room for relationships' thing?" said Harry, one brow raised. "I thought you and John get on okay-"

"Oh bloody hell, Potter, do I have to spell it out for you?" snapped Estella. "Do you think I want to go down the 'let's just be friends road' with someone I really like – there, I admit it – because I have a _choice_? Get with the program, Harry! If Lucius Malfoy is prepared to ruin my father's life to get what he wants, what do you think he will do to a boy who has taken my attention away from his son?" – she shook her head – "Don't give me that look! Before you ask, no, Draco has not made any threats. Believe it or not there is more to Draco than you would ever care to acknowledge. He might not like that my interests lie elsewhere, but he accepts it and unlike his father, Harry, he respects my right to choose – he won't be saying anything to Lucius. After all, an arranged marriage where one of the parties is unwilling is hardly good for either party."

"Fine. So Malfoy's looking out for himself by being nice to you and trying to make you like him," Harry conceded. "Don't mistake his 'understanding' for nobility… not when it's steeped in self-interest. I bet-"

"Stop. Harry, just stop!" Estella raised her hand and turned her head away. All of a sudden she realised how foolish she had been to believe that Draco's overtures were genuine and without malice. Harry's words cut through her like a knife when she saw just how close she had become to sympathising with the blond boy, allowing herself to be manipulated by him. "Can we not dwell on this today? Why did you want to see me?"

Nodding, Harry moved the conversation onwards. "Meet me in the mirror room before the end of the Halloween Feast. Slip away before the elves bring out the afters. Tell your friends that you're off to the loo – I promise you it will be worth your while."

* * *

"All right, I give up. Why am I here?" asked Estella as Harry sealed the door, making sure they were alone in the room before retrieving something from a pocket in his robes. "OK, what have you got here? Not even Draco was compelled to give me my present in complete secrecy!" 

"Just open it!" Harry growled, shoving the small package into her hands.

Without hesitation, she opened the small box to reveal a -

"Hey, whoa, a _Time Turner_?" she said, awed. "Does my father know you're giving me this? You know my track record with them is not very good-"

"One…yes, it's a Time Turner," said Harry, ticking off her questions on his fingers as he answered them. "Two, _yes_ your father knows… but before you get too carried away, this one is only on _loan_. For one day. Read the note."

Moving the Time Turner aside in its box, Estella extracted a small piece of parchment that lay folded underneath. Opening it with her spare hand, Estella shook out the paper to read. Looking up moments later, she gaped at Harry.

"Who made you a Portkey?" she asked. "Do-over my birthday? Leave the school without technically being gone at all? Only my father could think of something so… so… so…"

"Unbelievably wicked?" Harry's grin was so wide, Estella was certain that it had to hurt.

"Well I was going to say 'dangerous, risky and completely irresponsible'," she said, her lips twitching; "but that works too."

"So," said Harry, gesturing towards the Time Turner and pulling out a crushed coke can from his pocket. "Are you in?" – seeing Estella hesitate, he rattled the Portkey slightly. "I should warn you that Padfoot's promised to send you a Howler if you don't go. Said something about telling everyone within earshot about the time you – hey, don't shoot the messenger!"

At that, Estella stopped scowling at the Gryffindor and pulled the Time Turner out of its case. Slipping the extendable chain around both of their necks, she put its box into a pocket of her robes and looked to Harry expectedly.

"You'd better do it…I don't want to relive my _birth_!"

The room being an abandoned, empty antechamber in the heart of the castle, it was hard to gauge the regression of time.

"Wait, was that it?" said Estella finally, having never experienced a Time Turner at work, when it was working properly. "I don't feel any different. Are you sure it worked? For real?"

"We'll see," said Harry, holding out the crushed can. "If it worked, they'll be waiting."

"Who will?" asked Estella, her hand brushing the Portkey as Harry thrust it towards her, activating it and losing her words in a spiral of magic. She needn't have asked where they were as she stumbled to a halt at their destination; a pair of hands reaching out to grab her into a hug before she had chance to fall over. Finding herself in a familiar embrace, she looked up owlishly at her captor.

"Dad?"

"You didn't think I'd ignore you on your birthday, did you?" Sirius chuckled at his daughter's astonishment. "That I wouldn't move heaven and earth to spend the _whole_ day with you," – he looked to the Portkey in Harry's hand – "now I have the means?"

Estella frowned in confusion. "The day is almost over-"

"From a certain point of view," Sirius nodded in due consideration, before leaning over Estella to accept the Time Turner from Harry, who was slightly behind. "Though thanks to this handy little artefact that Kingsley was kind enough to _borrow_ from the bowels of the Ministry, I find it prudent to point out that your birthday is _tomorrow_."

"Yes, but I still had to live through the birthday from hell, thanks to Umbridge!" said Estella, pouting, before glaring slightly at Harry. "Wish someone had told me what to expect from the evening – it may have been a little more bearable."

"Ah well, at least we won't have to worry about getting back to the school for another 24 hours before we're noted as missing," said Harry. "Or we could just keep using the Time Turner if we wanted more time-"

"Like Groundhog Day?" asked Estella, feeling rather dizzy at the notion of living the day over; her mind bewildered by the knowledge that somewhere across the country, her former self was going about her business with no idea what lay ahead. Remembering then, the Quidditch match, that to her had happened a day ago but in terms of the present time, the aftermath of which was only just unfolding, she shuddered at the memory. Hopefully this makeshift do-over of her birthday will be much nicer than the day she'd just had. Looking up at the joy in her father's eyes, she could not help but relax.

Pulling his daughter into another embrace, Sirius chuckled. "That's exactly what Moony said!" he kissed the top of her head reverently before stepping away to ruffle Harry's hair and pull his godson into a one-armed hug. "Speaking of whom, he and Tonks should be here any minute."

The three exchanged a knowing look at the mention of Remus and Tonks arriving together. Spying the glint in her father's eye, Estella was reluctant to draw conclusions based on such supposition. Knowing her godfather as well as she liked to think she did, she knew that it would not be unlike him to offer to escort Tonks for safety reasons. That the woman was a fully-trained Auror may have not exactly leant itself to that theory, Estella was disinclined to think the same way as her father and Harry until Remus himself had provided confirmation.

"You know, Moony doesn't appreciate people speculating about his love life," said Estella as she caught Harry asking the question of what they were to call Tonks if she ever married Remus and changed her name.

"Damn straight, I don't!" said a voice from the shadows in a low gravely tone. There was a rustle of movement in the corner before a rather bemused pair could be visible. Placing his hand on his goddaughter's shoulder, squeezing it in greeting, Remus scowled at the other two. "You know perfectly well, Padfoot, that there was only one Portkey for the two of us! Please refrain from planting unsubstantiated ideas into the minds of those who are so impressionable – hullo there, Harry."

The rest of the evening passed in much the same fashion, with the two Marauders torturing each other with clever words and innuendo, leaving the teenagers in stitches and Tonks with a permanent blush on her cheeks. Distracting her with videos and tales of the past, no one would disclose to Estella the plans for the next day. Curious though she was, Estelle refrained from pushing the issue, content instead to anticipate a pleasant surprise. It was unfortunately easy for her to do so on account of her mind's preoccupation with keeping the effects of her uncle's punishment hidden.

"Are you all right, cub?" Remus had followed her out of the living room, cornering her as she emerged from the small potions laboratory in the cellar. "What are you doing?"

"I'm too jumpy to sit down and watch movies," said Estella, choosing her words carefully. "I came down to get a drink and was compelled to check up on things."

"Very well," said Remus, taking a deep breath in relief. "I was worried that you may be feeling under the weather. You look a little peaky."

'_Trust Remus to be so perceptive_' said Estella to herself. Aloud, she shook her head. "Maybe time travel doesn't agree with me or something. I'm fine. You worry too much," she said lightly. "It's nothing a potion and a day away from Umbridge can't fix."

Grimacing slightly at the mention of the woman's name, Remus nodded tersely and hugged Estella gently.

"Glad we could be of some assistance, then," said Remus, squeezing her affectionately before pulling away and draping an arm around her shoulder. "Now, I am certain I can _compel _you to come and watch the rest of the film with us – I came in here to fetch the chocolate truffles, you know."

"Bribing me with chocolate, Uncle Remus?" said Estella with a smile. "That's getting a bit old, don't you think? I would have come just for the company-"

"-well, no one said you had to _have _any chocolate!" Remus cut in, grinning.

"Oh, you know me… being unable to avoid eating a chocolate you put in front of me is about as certain as death and taxes." - she mock-glared at her godfather – "don't you give me that innocent look! You're the one who conditioned me this way, and don't think my uncle doesn't know it, either!" – he smirked at her guiltily – "which reminds me, why didn't you ever tell me who Mrs Flume really was? I figured it out by myself, I'll have you know…"

"I knew you'd figure it out on your own," Remus stated simply, casting a wry look in her direction before summoning a tray of chocolate treats and starting towards the living room with not so much as a backward glance.

Alone in the room once more, Estella's eyes lit up at the memory of something that she just knew the two grown Marauders in her life would appreciate. Tearing past her godfather, ignoring his look of puzzlement, she tore into the study to retrieve the Pensieve. The others having seen her blow through the adjoining living room like a hurricane had risen in surprise, following in her wake. A lone silvery thread of thought was affixed to the tip of her wand before anyone thought to speak.

"What-?"

Motioning for silence with her free hand, Estella deposited the memory into the shimmering pool.

"I almost forgot, you gotta see this!" she said, beckoning them to join her in the Pensieve.

"You threw that mouse down her blouse?" Remus pulled his head from the Pensieve moments later, not knowing whether to scold or smile.

"The look… the look on her face!" Sirius managed between gasps of laughter.

"We really shouldn't be laughing, you know," said Tonks cautiously. "That woman is more or less a teacher and…" her voice trailed off as four pairs of eyes glared at her. Defensively, she stood her ground. "Look, I'm just saying that it's a bit bizarre that you're encouraging Estella to be proud of when she does something wrong. Even if it's the least of what that old b-i-t-c-h deserves, what kind of precedent is it setting? A lot of people of my year would have said that Severus Snape deserved to have a cauldron of Bubblicious Shampoo upended on his head, but you didn't see me doing it, let alone rushing home to show the memory to my parents!"

Estella paled, and Sirius sighed.

"She's right, kiddo… as much as I hate to admit it," he said reluctantly, his eyes flicking to Remus for support, who nodded in agreement. "But then again, Dolly dearest is hardly a _proper _member of the Hogwarts staff…" – his eyes glinted in mischief – "so if you, you know, need any tips-"

"Sirius!" Remus and Tonks cut him off.

"See, what did I tell you? A match made…_Ow_! Moony, you prat, that hurt!" Sirius rubbed the spot where Remus had punched him in the arm vigorously, though the grin on his face discounted any real pain he might have been in.

"No more pranking the High Inquisitor, Estella," Remus said finally, causing Harry, Estella and Sirius to look at the werewolf as though he had just grown an extra head. Unable to hold onto his resolve, his face cracked into a smile. "At least not where she'll be able to so easily point the finger at you…"

"Good," Estella beamed under their approval. "Cause she deserves all I can give her and more after what she made Harry do-"

"Thanks a lot, Estella!" Harry cut her off, his hands instinctively burying themselves into the pockets of his trousers.

"Crap, Harry! It just slipped out!" Estella covered her mouth with her hand in horror as the looks on the adult's faces – particularly her father's – darkened.

"What just slipped out? What has that woman done?" said Sirius in a fiercely protective tone. "Explain."

Staring at the look of determination on her father's face, Estella changed tactics.

"If we tell you, you'll go and make a show of tearing the woman apart in your Animagus form" – she paused to savour the image – "which is all fair and good if you don't care to give Harry and I the opportunity to plot our own retribution by ourselves – after all, the Marauders accepted help from no one when becoming Animagi, isn't that what you say?"

"There go my words coming back to nip me in the butt," Sirius muttered, backing down reluctantly. "All right," he said, pointing to each of them in turn as though he were lecturing them; "I'm trusting you two to dispense fair and equitable justice – without getting caught – in the true spirit of the Marauders-"

"-since when were we ever 'fair and equitable'?" scoffed Remus, snorting in amusement.

"-since when were Harry and I Marauders?" countered Estella, a calculating look in her eye. "We're a step up from you lot… the Sorting Hat _did_ favour us both for Slytherin for a reason…"

END CHAPTER

NEXT CHAPTER: _Desperate Measures_

DUE: Friday 19 May 2006


	18. Tying Up Loose Ends

**Updated: Saturday 20 May 2006**

**Disclaimer: The Royalty cheque bounced again… anything recognisable belongs to the one with the big bank account... **

**Chapter Eighteen**: **Tying Up Loose Ends**

The do-over of Estella's birthday had been a resounding success. Sirius had evidently racked up a lot of favours during his short-lived career prior to Azkaban, and had no qualms with calling them in for the occasion of his daughter's birthday. Order members he had turned to for help had only been too happy to assist in preparing the celebrations of their youngest member's birthday; the now fourteen-year-old having steadily gained the respect of the adults around her.

In the end, Sirius had surprised them all with a special Portkey trip to a rock concert on the other side of the world. The different time zone had seen them take in the evening show a little after breakfast, and they had returned to a special lunch hosted by almost the entire Order. While at the show, they had even managed to get backstage: one of the guitar techs was a Squib who had lived in Hogsmeade up until the end of the Marauder's fourth year, and he was happy to help out a few old friends. Later, when asked about how he had managed to pull it all together, Sirius had accredited the liner notes of his daughter's CDs to be 'rather informative', but did not give details. Growing up under her uncle's watchful eye, Estella knew when not to ask questions.

The only cloud that hung over the celebration of Estella's birthday, was the absence of her uncle. Whilst she understood that her father had orchestrated the day so that she could spend the occasion with both sides of her family in equal parts, that she had been actively avoiding the man since overhearing his conversation with Draco nagged at her. Estella had been disconcerted when it had appeared that both her father and godfather were out of reach on her birthday – the first time round – but it wasn't entirely surprising or unprecedented; her father had spent the majority of her life in prison, and her godfather had been unavoidably apart from her on birthdays and Christmases in the past because of his 'furry little problem'. Severus, on the other hand, had never not acknowledged her birthday in some way, and it was an unfortunate side-effect of their last meeting that Estella had actively avoided the man when he had attempted to detain her after class, and later attract her attention at the Halloween Feast.

Upon returning to the school a scant few minutes after she'd technically left it, Estella had sought out her uncle and made tentative amends with the wizard. She really did understand what he had done, and had only been maddened by the thought that he'd perhaps not done enough to prevent it; but, after some time away, Estella could only acknowledge that even her uncle had his limits. He wasn't to know that she would step away from the norm by knocking on his door without even trying to use a password; or anticipate that she would actually give him permission to curse her at will.

In turn, Severus had been quick to absolve her of any accountability in what happened, referring to it all as a miscommunication with unfortunate consequences; Estella realised that most of her anger had been directed at herself. She had felt ashamed for losing control with Draco in the first place and then not anticipating her uncle's course of action; the fear of having disappointed her uncle, keeping her away from him. In the end, Severus had actually reinforced her godfather's sentiment, by admitting that a lot was expected from her and acknowledging that she was entitled to make mistakes – as he, in turn, was also inclined. They had then parted on amicable terms; the feeling of having failed each other in some immeasurable way still hung between them, but no longer keeping them apart.

* * *

"What's the matter?" said Estella, coming up alongside her uncle. In the wake of the 'ink incident', Umbridge had taken it upon herself to sentence Estella to one detention a week for the remainder of the term. Since the over-active High Inquisitor had been giving out detentions like the headmaster gave out his lemon drops, it had fallen on Severus to oversee the detentions given to students in his class. Tonight, he and his niece happened to be putting the prescribed time to good use – playing chess. Estella rapped her fingernails on the edge of the board; her chin braced by her other hand, the connected elbow bearing the weight against the arm of her chair. "I know something's wrong. You haven't made a move and you don't look like you're thinking of Chess strategies-"

"Let us not darken the mood with exposition," said Severus, making the move distractedly. Estella quickly went on to win the game in three moves.

"That was far too easy to be satisfying," said Estella with a frown. "Is this because you don't want me to go home for Christmas?"

Severus winced inwardly at the implication that his niece now considered her home to be somewhere other than with him. Giving his niece a scrutinising look, he leant forward in his chair; the sudden movement of his knees knocking over several indignant chess pieces. "We have already discussed this, Estella. You may spend Christmas wherever you choose," he paused. "The Ministry may have granted me with authority, but I do soundly believe that you are old enough to make your own decisions. You have more than adequately proven that you are mature enough to shoulder adult responsibilities, after all."

"Oh, all right then," said Estella, a little taken aback by the empowerment her uncle was giving her so unexpectedly. If she didn't know any better, she would have suspected that he was trying to prepare her for something… for a time where she would have no choice but to make decisions for herself. It had been going on ever since he had been forced to curse her, and she couldn't help but wonder if he had taken to distancing himself for a reason. Giving her uncle a coy look, she peered at him quizzically. "You're not sick or something, are you? I mean, you're not going planning on going somewhere or anything?"

Severus allowed himself to look bewildered, before slipping his mask back into place.

Seeing the fleeting look, Estella elaborated. "It's just that you sounded like you were preparing me for life without you or something," said Estella, shaking her head dismissively. "If I didn't know any better I would suspect that you've been punishing yourself over what happened in October-"

Averting his eyes, Severus stared into the crimson flames flickering in the hearth. Little did his niece know how close to the mark she actually was.

"When you were born," he said heavily, still avoiding her eyes. "I promised myself that I would never allow harm to befall you…" he glanced up at her and inhaled slowly. "Recent events have caused me to re-evaluate things. We are at war, Estella – nothing is for certain. I want you to be prepared."

Estella gave him a shrewd look, before nodding. "Oh, I could think of one or two things that will always be for certain," she said wistfully. Smiling slightly when she saw that her uncle had understood what she had meant, she leant back in her chair and continued in a light, conversational banter. "The last DA meeting is later tonight. Are you sure you don't want to sneak a look? The group was pretty much your idea-"

"The results will be evident in the student's practical exams," said Severus shortly. "In the meantime, I do not wish to witness Mr. Potter in the centre of attention-"

"Yet it was _you_ who suggested he lead it!" said Estella, shaking her head in mirth. "Oh, the irony!"

Severus grimaced, staring intently at his niece. "Do not mistake the gesture as a display of good faith. I believe there would be several other students better suited to the task if not for the inevitability of the headmaster finding out," he said. "My decision was based solely on whom the headmaster would be more likely to support. A _Slytherin_ leading a Defence against the Dark Arts class would raise a number of moral questions about intent-"

"Says the _Slytherin_ charged with _teaching_ the subject!" said Estella flatly. Earning no response from her uncle, who was righting the fallen chess pieces with a subtle flick of his wand, she took a deep breath; "what would you say if I said I liked Harry?"

"Well judging by the amount of time you spend with the boy, I would have thought that was apparent," said Severus, barely keeping the level of his distaste out of his tone as he busied himself returning all the chess pieces to their rightful places.

Estella gave him a sidelong glance, frowning. Gathering her courage, she took a deep breath. "No," she corrected him, then braced herself for his reaction. "I mean _like_, like him."

Stunned into silence, Severus could only stare at his niece, a sudden feeling of discomfort making him feel like fleeing the room. "I would reserve my judgement until you were certain of your words," said Severus, considering her carefully. As competent as his niece was at clearing her mind under his instruction, her defences were not entirely infallible, especially when she was feeling particularly comfortable amongst her company.

Making herself more comfortable – always a bad sign – Estella crossed her legs in the chair and began picking at the loose threads in the upholstery; another nervous habit. Absently, Severus noted how much smaller the chair she was in seemed to be getting…

"You're right, I'm not certain," she said. "I'm not certain of _anything_."

Feeling increasingly awkward, Severus began to shift uncomfortably in his chair.

"Are you sure that I am the one you ought to be discussing… _this_… with?" said Severus almost anxiously, gesticulating with his hand in wide circles. "Surely your father or godfather could be a little more… _sensitive._"

"No. This is the one thing I _am_ certain of," said Estella resolutely. "Dad thinks everything's 'cute' and 'adorable' when it comes to Harry; it's like he either really does want to see us end up together, or he can't bring himself to believe that I'm old enough to start thinking of boys differently;" she sighed. "I trust Remus with my life, but I duly suspect that whatever I tell him, Dad'll wheedle it out of him somehow, and then I'd never hear the end of it."

Running a hand over his face, Severus considered his options. "Very well," he said, clasping his hands in his lap, all together thankful that his niece hadn't chosen to drop this revelation on him while he was brewing a potion. "Though I needn't remind you that my opinion of Potter is not a flattering one. I do not see myself being objective-"

"That's all right," said Estella. "I just need a sounding board. I am, as you said, old enough to make my own decisions… supposedly."

Rather than ask the rather redundant question of why his niece didn't choose a female classmate for this task, Severus nodded for the girl to go on. While the idea of having this kind of conversation with Estella absolutely mortified him, he was subsequently mollified at the revelation that he was her confidant of choice.

"Firstly, just let me say that I don't _think_ I like Harry _that_ way," she said. "I mean he's so much more like I would think a brother would be like; but then everyone seems to think I am jealous of Cho-"

"Cho?" said Severus, already lost as he tried to connect all the dots.

"Chang. The Ravenclaw Seeker Harry's got a crush on," said Estella, looking all the more as though she had wanted to say a few other choice words about the girl. "I still like to think that I'm just being protective of Harry, because anyone will tell you Cho is a real bi… bit of a basket case, but then Dad said something to me that suggested that Harry was only chasing Cho to get to me; and that made me feel relieved for some reason and I just don't understand it. Maybe I _do_ like Harry, I don't know…"

Severus considered Estella's jumble of words carefully before wording his opinion. "Your doubt in this matter is instigated by your father's comments, are they not?" he asked, his eyes darkening as he considered the possibility that his brother-in-law was manipulating the children in his care to manifest unnatural feelings towards each other. After all he had done to ensure Estella's heart was her own in regards to what he called the "Malfoy Problem", he could not fathom that the man who had wooed his wife away from an arranged marriage could ever contemplate such coercion.

"Partly," said Estella after a pause. "I see where you're going with this, Uncle Sev, but I doubt Dad would be clever enough to pull our strings that way. Everything is just a joke to him."

Grunting in acknowledgement, silently jubilant that his niece's opinions of her father's deductive abilities matched his own, Severus waited for the girl to continue. Experience told him that his niece would keep talking if left to her own devices.

"I mean I'm not exactly after that kind of relationship at the moment," she continued. "My life is complicated enough without adding to it… besides, with Lucius Malfoy around it'd hardly be safe for anyone I did happen to want to go out with anyway… but then Harry's already at the top of the Snark Lord's to-do list-"

"-you think Lucius would be proactive in eliminating perceived 'competition'?" said Severus, straightening in his chair and cutting his niece off abruptly. He had little idea that his niece would be of the mind to pay attention to that level of threat.

"It's what I'd do," said Estella, shrugging. Noticing the look on her uncle's face, she rolled her eyes. "Uncle Sev, you raised me to think like a Slytherin. I can't help it if I know firsthand just what one like Lucius Malfoy is capable of."

"I take it that's why you have been distancing yourself from that Ravenclaw in your year," he said, nodding.

"Partly," she said. "Truth is, I don't really know how I feel about him, either. He was my best friend, and now he wants more. I don't know if I want things to change like that… so with Malfoy breathing down my neck and me apparently being jealous of Cho-"

"Has Draco been threatening you?" Severus cut her off, leaning forward in his chair again, this time in unadulterated concern. "I've noticed him pull you aside on numerous occasions, but you haven't indicated that it was bothering you…"

"It's not. He's fine," said Estella. "I don't know where Draco's allegiances lie, but I do know that he doesn't want me pushed into something I don't want. I guess he's seen how hollow and loveless his parents' marriage is and doesn't want that for himself –"

Reading between the lines, Severus cut in once more. "Draco's exhibited genuine feelings towards you?" he said, mildly surprised at this turn of events.

Estella nodded. "Yes, though Harry seems to think it's all an act to make me all agreeable to what Lucius wants," she said, frowning. "But I think it's more a case of Draco simply not knowing any better. I think his feelings are real, but that they've been planted there after years of conditioning and brain washing."

"I don't doubt that," said Severus, nodding in agreement. "Lucius was rather aggrieved when my raising of you did not proffer similar results. He began to question my willingness to see his plans through; but I managed to convince him that you have had external influences swaying you and my position has always been to let you make up your own mind. It is, therefore, unsurprising that Draco has been increasing his overtures, trying to win you over."

"So it is all at Lucius' directive?" said Estella, troubled.

"Yes, though Draco has been raised to have eyes for no other," said Severus. "Because of this I suspect he would pursue you, regardless of Lucius' instructions." He paused, not knowing how his next question would be received. "Would you never consider a relationship with Draco?"

"Are you speaking as my uncle, or Draco's housemaster?" said Estella with a knowing glint in her eye. Sighing, she shook her head. "Do your best to turn his attentions elsewhere. I would never give Lucius the satisfaction."

"So your rejection of him isn't because you find him intolerable?" said Severus, narrowing his eyes. "If Lucius was out of the picture…"

"My position would still be the same," said Estella. "He is a Malfoy. I am my father's daughter… it's nothing personal."

"Surely even your father could get over himself long enough to see you happy," said Severus, somewhat curious as to how his niece weighed her father's intent.

"Alas, I could never find happiness with one who wears the face of my tormentor," said Estella levelly. "I think Draco realises this… his father doesn't appear to be his most favourite person at the moment. While I think Lucius has used fear to assure Draco's allegiance to the Dark Lord, I think Draco's using it now to get back at his father."

"You believe Draco will discredit Lucius and take his place at the Dark Lord's side?" said Severus, smirking slightly at the ambitiousness of the young Slytherin's endeavour, and all together impressed by his niece's insight.

Nodding, Estella frowned. "Though maybe if I told him which side I truly stood on, it would dissuade him from that last bit…"

"No," said Severus quickly; perhaps a little too quickly. "We cannot be sure if his feelings for you are stronger than any loyalty he feels towards the Dark Lord. Draco may harbour a feeling of discontent towards his father, but he is first and foremost a Malfoy, and a Malfoy would not likely risk the wrath of someone like Lord Voldemort by crossing them." He considered his niece carefully. "That point aside, I find it prudent to point out that to disclose your true allegiances to Draco without any intention of reciprocating his feelings for you would surely break him."

"But I don't want to make an enemy of Draco," said Estella. "I mean we don't even have a conventional friendship by any means, but I don't hate him."

"If his loyalties lie with the Dark Lord, then it cannot be avoided," said Severus. "Unless you were to take his side, or draw Draco out of the battle with the promise of what he supposedly wants from you, there can be no in between."

For a moment, Estella looked like she was going to argue, but she relented. Sighing in frustration, she pulled the hair tie from her hair before proceeding to pull back the loose strands and do it up again. "Oh why couldn't I have just gone to an all-girls school?" she said dramatically. "I'd only have to worry about study, then!"

"Be careful of what you say, child," said Severus, his lips twitching. "As your _legal_ guardian, I can have you transferred."

Shooting him a dirty look, Estella finished tying her hair up, pausing to straighten the fringe before looking at her watch. "Just be thankful that you've gotten me to tie my hair back," she quipped, unfolding herself from her chair and stretching lazily. "I'd better go if I want to go help Harry set up for the meeting. Thanks for the talk – I don't know if it helped any, but in the least it cleared my head."

"I'm glad I could serve of some use, then," said Severus genuinely, rising from his chair to show his niece out. "Remember what I said about Draco-"

"Yes, yes, I know," said Estella with a sigh, pausing by the door as her uncle rested a hand on her shoulder. "In a way I always knew that there would be no compromise, as you said; it was good hearing it confirmed. I'll accept it eventually – I'll have to."

"Very well," said Severus, squeezing his niece's shoulder in a gesture that conveyed his pride. "In the mean time, I will stick close to Lucius and try to ascertain his intentions towards any one he conceives as Draco's 'competition'. Perhaps if I could distract his attentions elsewhere, it will ease your mind and you can be free to pursue relationships with your peers."

Estella gave him a shrewd look. "That's funny," she said with a wry smile. "I'd have thought Lucius would be doing you a favour, scaring me from dating and chasing away my suitors."

"As inconceivable as it may sound, I _do_ trust you," said Severus. "Your consideration when deferring young Mr Ryan's advances demonstrates that you are not about to allow the onset of hormones undo the years of rational thought you have been instilled with."

Piecing together all of the comments her uncle made throughout the course of the evening, Estella reached a rather enlightening conclusion and smiled. Thinking of how his words could come back to haunt him should she happen to wind up with someone he did not approve of, her eyes glinted with a mischievousness her uncle had long since associated with walking into his potions lab to find everything in disarray. Giving nothing else away, she reached up to kiss her uncle's cheek before turning on her heel and _skipping_ out of the man's quarters, leaving a bewildered and somewhat wary Hogwarts professor in her wake.

* * *

Estella arrived at the Room of Requirement for the last DA meeting before the holidays just in time to see Harry bustling about the room, desperately trying to remove decorations. Her eyes widening at what was emblazoned on the countless strings of gold baubles and smirking at the boy's flustered expression, she leant against the shelf by the door and cleared her throat.

"Can we expect the Snark Lord to be attacking us with animated Christmas Trees next?" she teased, eyes twinkling in mirth. "Or is he starting small and hoping to pick us off one by one with embarrassment?"

"Either shut up or help!" snapped Harry, looking at the clock at the wall and scowling at the time. "So help that blasted house elf if anyone else sees this!"

"So if I help you," said Estella, pushing herself from the shelf and drawing her wand; "does that mean I can pay you out some more?"

"You're such a comedienne, you know that?" said Harry, looking up at her through narrowed eyes. "I'd watch what I say if I were you… unless you _want_ me to make an example of you in the meeting."

Estella snorted. "I'd like to see you try! All the gold dazzling off your baubles must be clouding your mind – you're forgetting that my Uncle has been giving me one-on-one lessons since school began-"

"-And _you're_ forgetting that I can still best you in a duel!" said Harry uppishly.

"Maybe I'm deliberately holding back," said Estella, bluffing. "You know, to boost your little deprived ego? Foolish me thought you needed the encouragement, ha!"

"You've just come from spending time with your uncle, haven't you?" Harry looked at her knowingly. Untangling himself from the string of baubles that had unravelled around his feet, Harry assumed a duelling position and drew his wand, intent on challenging her. "Care to put your wand where your mouth is?"

"Why, however would I cast spells then?" she smirked, mirroring his stance. "No Stunners, or Body-Binds… first to disarm or last to yield wins."

Harry nodded his consent. "Ladies first," he said cockily.

At that, Estella's wand twitched unnoticeably and in the next instant, Harry's wand was sailing across the room and into her waiting hand. Smirking at the spluttering wizard, she tossed the boy's wand in the air, deftly catching it by its end before approaching him and offering it back to him, handle-first.

"What's that you were saying about making an example of me?"

"You… you… Non-Verbal!" stammered Harry, pointing at her in indignation. "I didn't know… how on earth did you pull it off?"

"Now, now, Harry," said Estella, waving her finger. "I _did_ remind you that my uncle was giving me one-on-one tuition to make up for the tripe Umbridge is making him teach. What did you expect him to be teaching me?"

"You could have warned me!" said Harry, feeling somewhat embarrassed by his loss.

"Is a Death Eater going to warn you before throwing a Non-Verbal Unforgivable your way?" Estella pointed out flatly. "Don't feel too bad, though… I've only managed to disarm someone Non-Verbally. It wasn't until November that I finally talked him into teaching me stuff above the fourth-year syllabus. It 's tricky… and my uncle tells me that only _exceptional _wizards master it; which, as we know, rules out most in the Snark Lord's ranks, eh?"

"Do you think we should include Non-Verbal casting in the DA, then?" said Harry, frowning.

"No," said Estella decisively. "It's covered in most upper-level classes already, and most people aren't ready to learn before fifth year, and no offence Harry, but you're really going to need to get a proper handle of it yourself before you could start teaching it to others."

"I wasn't thinking of me… you could…" said Harry.

"Did you not hear a thing I said? I can only do one or two spells non-verbally… that hardly counts as having a proper handle on it!" said Estella, shaking her head. "Now, do you want my help taking down those decorations, or would you rather the DA witness Dobby's debut as an interior decorator?"

Working together, they had only just managed to get the last of them down before the door creaked open and Luna Lovegood entered, looking as dreamy as usual.

"Hello," she said vaguely, looking around at what remained of the decorations, as they were piled on the floor. "These are nice, are you putting them up?"

"No," said Harry, "Dobby the house elf put them up, we're taking them down."

"Mistletoe," said Luna dreamily, pointing at a large clump of white berries placed almost over Harry's head. He jumped out from under it, knocking into Estella as he did. "Good thinking," said Luna very seriously. "It's often invested with Nargles."

The bewildered pair were saved the necessity of asking what Nargles were by the steady trickle of DA members arriving in inconspicuous groups.

"OK," said Harry, calling the completed congregation to order. "I thought this evening we should just go over the things we've done so far, because it's the last meeting before the holidays. There's no point starting anything new right before a three-week break - "

"We're not doing anything new?" said Zacharias Smith, in a disgruntled whisper loud enough to carry through the room. "If I'd known that, I wouldn't have come."

"We're all really sorry Harry didn't tell you, then," said Estella loudly.

Several people sniggered. Estella saw Cho laughing, and a quick glance at Harry saw him giving the fifth year a strange look. Catching the distracted Gryffindor's attention, Estella rolled her eyes as he attempted to regain his ground.

"-we… we can practice in pairs," said Harry, shaking his head slightly, as though shaking a particular strain of thoughts from his mind. "We'll start with the Impediment Jinx, for ten minutes, then we can get out the cushions and try Stunning again."

After ten minutes on the Impediment Jinx, they laid out cushions all over the floor and started practicing Stunning again. Space was really too confined to allow them all to work this spell at once; half the group observed the others for a while, then swapped over.

At the end of an hour, Harry called a halt. "You're getting really good," he said, beaming around at them. "When we get back from the holidays we can start doing some of the big stuff – maybe even Patronuses."

There was a murmur of excitement. The room began to clear in the usual twos and threes; most people wished Harry a 'Happy Christmas' as they went, though Estella made a point of jabbing him in the side with her wand and reciting what Dobby had so thoughtfully emblazoned on the gaudy Christmas decorations. Having secretly pocketed one, she palmed it in her hand and held it out so that only Harry could see it. Smirking at the look that crossed over the boy's features, she lagged behind to assist with clearing away the cushions, her aim to not give Cho the opportunity to get Harry alone.

Watching, however, as Ron and Hermione dutifully left, followed shortly by Cho's merry little band of followers, Estella scowled. Short of staging a confrontation, or coming across as a completely needy, persistent hanger-on, there was little way she could prevent the pair from being alone. Turning to leave, she was surprised when Harry called her back.

"Wait, Estella, I'll walk with you," he said, looking all the more as though he had just made a difficult decision. "Er, thanks for your help, Cho… have a good holiday."

Looking as though she were about to burst into tears, Cho nodded wordlessly and bolted from the room, brushing past Estella in the doorway and barrelling down the hall, calling out to her friends. Staring at the place in the doorway where she had seen the fleeing girl last, Estella blinked in disbelief.

"All right, when exactly did I step into a parallel dimension?" she said, turning to examine Harry with the same disbelieving expression. "Any moment now, I expect to hear the theme from _The Twilight Zone_ – did you just give _Cho Chang_ the brush-off?"

"I thought you'd be pleased," said Harry briskly, walking over to a chair to pick up his book bag. Hefting it onto his shoulder forcefully, his movements jerky, he avoided her eyes. "You were hanging around waiting for her to leave, weren't you?"

"Harry, I was just _leaving_," she said, confused.

"What, so you would have rather I let you leave and then snogged Cho senseless under the Mistletoe?" said Harry, leering at her.

Estella fought to hide her disgust at the mental image that provided her with. Shaking her head dismissively, she sighed. "Harry, what you choose to do in your own time is your business. If _that's_ what will make you happy, I am not here to hold you back… I just know Cho better than you think you do, and I'm worried about you getting hurt."

"Is that all?" said Harry, suddenly standing much closer to Estella than she last remembered. "You're not jealous?"

"Jealous? Harry, where… where is this coming from?" said Estella, backing away uncomfortably.

"I don't know, Estella. What _is_ happening between us?" he looked at her, desperately seeking an answer. "Why do I see red every time some guy talks to you? I've seen how Ron gets with Ginny, but I'm _not_ your brother! We've only known each other a few years – it can't be as simple as that."

"Maybe it is," said Estella, shrugging nonchalantly as she went over her earlier conversation with her uncle; her feelings being much clearer now. "Let's make a pact… no more butting into each other's… uh… _dealings_ with members of the opposite gender. I'll reserve my opinion of Cho and you… and you… well, no more seeing red, ok?"

"I'll close my eyes, then," said Harry, holding the door open after checking to see if the hallway was clear. "After you-"

"Ah, so gallant," said Estella, slipping past him and pocketing his wand as she brushed past. Turning to wave her bounty in front of him, she smirked. "Don't be afraid of hitting a girl, Harry. You let the wrong girl see that chivalry, and she'll use it against you."

* * *

The room was shrouded in darkness when Estella awoke with a feeling of unease in her stomach. The sound of a bird's urgent call echoed in her ears, the single, solitary feather in her peripheral vision convincing her that it hadn't been a dream. Realising what that meant, Estella sat bolt upright, the feather in her hand.

"Fawkes," she whispered, taking but a moment to catch her breath before throwing off her covers and leaping from her bed. She didn't know how, and she didn't know why, but the Fawkes who had appeared in her dream had physically been present, lulling her from her slumber. From that, she could only conclude that she had to get to Dumbledore's office… immediately.

Not even pausing to find her slippers or put on a robe over her pyjamas, Estella grabbed her wand from under her pillow and slipped from her dormitory. So caught up was she then, in reaching her destination, that she failed to avoid the detection of a certain prowling High Inquisitor.

"_Hem, hem!_" the fluffy-gowned, pink-slippered woman called after her, looking altogether laughable with the magical rollers in her hair.

'_Think fast, kiddo_,' her father's voice resonated in her mind. One of their favourite pastimes during their regular mirror-calls had been to brainstorm hypothetical situations, working together to find a solution. '_Just keep walking_,' her inner voice cut in. '_Pretend you didn't hear_… _stall for time_.'

"Miss _Black_!" said Umbridge loudly.

Fighting the urge to flinch at the woman's proximity – Estella having fought the instinct to run – she schooled her eyes into a glazed, expressionless blank stare. '_I'm sleepwalking_!' she said to herself, thinking that if she told it to herself enough times the woman she was trying to convince of that fact would buy it. Forcing her body to go slack as the woman grabbed her shoulder, making her stop, she focused her gaze straight ahead; remaining unresponsive to the woman's presence.

After shaking her a few times and firing questions at her, spittle flying at the unresponsive girl at point-blank-range, Umbridge started to get the picture that the girl was not aware of her environment. The moment she let go of Estella to consider her options, Estella headed on towards Dumbledore's office. As though realising something, Umbridge quickly overtook her, blocking her path.

"This wouldn't have anything to do with several Gryffindor's being out of bed, would it?" she said malevolently. "I _was_ inclined to believe you were in an unconscious stupor, but then I notice that you're heading directly for the Headmaster's office; and I got to thinking, why would any child wish to sleep walk there? Her uncle's quarters, I can see… the kitchens, most certainly… I know you're awake, Miss Black. You can cease with the act."

Blinking slowly, Estella maintained her slack, dumbfounded expression and kept her eyes out of focus. The woman was turning red now, muttering dangerous insinuations and playing with her wand in her hand. Short of drawing her wand on the woman and attacking first, Estella knew that she was running fast out of options. The woman was not about to let her pass, and time was ticking by. Suddenly, the woman stepped aside and started to walk slightly ahead.

"Very well, Miss Black," she said, grinning slightly in her perceived victory. "_Sleepwalk_ to the Headmaster if you wish. I will accompany you. It just so happens I was headed to exactly that same place."

'_Figures_,' drawled Estella in her ever-sarcastic inner-dialogue.

No sooner had Estella and her unwanted company reached the corridor of the seventh floor that led directly to the gargoyle guarding the headmaster's office, were they headed off by a very determined Transfiguration professor.

"Dolores," said Professor McGonagall. "What business do you wish to seek with Albus at this hour of night… and what are you doing, dragging a student out of bed?"

Affronted, Umbridge went rigid and glared at the woman. "I dragged no child out of bed! I happened to find a large number of Gryffindors missing, and on my way to inform the headmaster, I found Miss Black here _sleepwalking_."

"Sleepwalking?" said McGonagall, barely catching the wink Estella covertly sent her way. "Well I see, this child belongs in the hospital wing, then."

"Very well, you take the girl to the nurse, and I will conduct my business with Albus," said Umbridge decisively. "Unless _you_ have something you would like to disclose about how several of your House have disappeared from their beds."

"There was an unfortunate emergency, and the children's presence was required elsewhere," said McGonagall. "I assure you that nothing untoward has happened to the students. They left at the Headmaster's discretion."

"I will be speaking to the Headmaster about this!" protested Umbridge, spluttering in indignation. "About why I wasn't informed!" Looking down to sneer at the silent student between them, she feigned concern. "Best get that child to the hospital wing, Minerva. She'll catch her death."

"Of course," said McGonagall. Taking Estella gently by the arm – like one would leading a blind person – she steered the 'sleepwalking' teen towards the hospital wing. "Come along, Estella. Let's see if we can determine what made you want to stumble your way to the headmaster's office in your sleep."

"Oh come on, Minerva," said Umbridge, calling after the pair. "You don't _really_ believe that she's sleepwalking, do you?"

"Indeed I believe that something is amiss," said Minerva coolly, turning around. "This child has grown up in these walls, and knows better than to wander around the castle at this time of night without a housecoat and proper attire on her feet. For all intents and purposes it appears as though she simply got out of bed and started walking."

Estella had to marvel at the woman's ability to state the facts while neither confirming her act nor disputing it. Allowing her eyes to come into focus just slightly, she was able to take in the image of Umbridge's indignation.

"She got out of bed and started walking, you say?" recalled Umbridge, looking calculative. "With her _wand_?"

"Do you not sleep with your wand under _your_ pillow, Dolores?" said McGonagall, shaking her head and tutting softly as though disapproving of the woman's carelessness.

Out of answers, and out of patience, Umbridge huffed and puffed and stormed away, her scowl audible down the corridor when she reached the gargoyle and realised that she did not know the password. Tugging Estella by the arm, the secretly scheming Gryffindor Head chivvied her along, keen to be out of sight before the woman came back, demanding her colleague's password. Once they were out of earshot, she spoke.

"You are certainly your father's daughter, Miss Black," said McGonagall, her lips twitching when Estella looked up at her. "If not for that wink, I'd have been convinced."

"That was what I was aiming for," said Estella ruefully. "Nice cover, by the way. Do you think we distracted her long enough?"

"Yes, I must thank you for providing me with something to stall the woman with," said McGonagall. "It would have been a close call for them, otherwise." The elder woman caught herself, halting in her step to stare at the child in question. "Just how are you aware of the situation? You… you… " – she lowered her voice and bowed her head towards Estella's ear – "you didn't have a vision too, did you?"

"No," said Estella, knowing that her arising questions will be answered in turn. Pulling the Phoenix's feather from her sleeve, she held it up for the Deputy Headmistress to see. "I had a warning."

"I see," said McGonagall, pursing her lips. She had been there in person when Dumbledore had issued his orders to the majestic bird, and she was certain that sending for the young Ravenclaw was not one of them. "Be that as it may, I suspect that the Headmaster will be detained in his office for quite some time. Once we have reached the hospital wing I will endeavour to explain."

* * *

Estella had 'taken ill' and was admitted to the hospital wing. Not even Umbridge could argue with this diagnosis, given it had been the woman's observations about her state of undress that had provided them with the idea. As the Floo was being monitored and the vile High Inquisitor had taken to hovering around the hospital wing like a sentinel, Estella was trapped in her bed. It wasn't until the woman had left to oversee the end of term feast that Estella's window of opportunity presented itself.

"_Hem, hem_!" A familiar voice called her from her doze, commanding her attention.

"'Lo Tonks," she said sleepily, smiling at her cousin's choice of disguise.

"How'd you know it was me?" hissed Tonks, morphing back to herself once she saw that the coast was clear.

"You have the dress sense down, but you smell loads better," said Estella. "So what's the plan?"

"I'm going to switch with you," said Tonks, grinning lopsidedly. "All the Weasleys are staying with ya Dad. When those twins heard of your predicament, they palmed me a souped-up version of their Skiving Snackboxes to take. You're going to have a turn for the worst and be transferred to "_St Mungo's_" by morning, where I suspect you'll have a rather miraculous recovery and '_be detained for observation for the rest of the holiday'_ by a certain Healer we both know and love."

"How is your Mum, anyway?" said Estella conversationally, climbing out of bed and accepting the change of clothes her cousin had pulled from a pocket and enlarged. The implication that her father's busy cousin was taking such a risk to provide a cover for her when they had fallen so dreadfully out of contact made her feel slightly guilty.

"Relax, baby cousin," said Tonks, sensing the younger girl's tone as she accepted the pyjamas Estella was discarding. "I'm just doing my job… as an Order member, Auror, and most importantly, your cousin."

"Thank you," said Estella, hugging her cousin once they had finished changing. "Now what?"

"Now, you take Harry's Invisibility Cloak, and go meet that industrious godfather of yours behind the statue of the one-eyed witch," said Tonks, tossing her the cloak in question.

"You mean you disguised yourself as Umbridge on my account?" said Estella, before smiling slyly; "or has my godfather presented signs of mental illness?"

It took a moment for the double meaning of Estella's words to sink into Tonks' mind. Rather than voice her protest, she simply morphed herself into her young cousin, causing the bewildered girl to shake her head in disbelief as she found herself face-to-face with herself.

"Merlin, Tonks, would you _warn_ a girl before you turn into them?"

"See you in a few days, kid," said Tonks, crawling into Estella's bed and pulling the covers under her chin. "Shoo, before someone comes in and sees two of you. Go straight to the statue… that house elf, Dobby, has already sent your trunk along."

"You read my mind," said Estella, nodding in approval. "Thanks for this – good luck!"

With the assistance of the Invisibility Cloak, Estella's journey to the secret passageway was uneventful. Reunited with her godfather, they bustled their way out of the school grounds under cover of darkness, and slipped away into Hogsmeade. It was only once they were safely absconded on the Knight Bus that they allowed themselves to relax.

"I've heard you've experienced a bout of sleepwalking," said Remus, a playful twitch to his lips. "We'd better keep you chained to the bed-"

"You're just jealous that you never thought to use it to get out of trouble when McGonagall caught _you _out of bed," she retorted, elbowing him in the ribs. "You know she admitted that I would have had her convinced, if not for the wink I deliberately sent her way-"

Their conversation continued on a similar vein for the remainder of the journey, the pair being joined by Hermione a short way into their trip. Arriving a block from their intended destination, they cut across the square towards the illusive House of Black, a light snow dusting their clothes with white.

"Harry's upstairs, in my old room, if you want to go say hello," said Sirius, after an enthusiastic reunion with his daughter. Bending down low to whisper directly into his daughter's ear, he added; "he's been skipping his meals. Maybe you can get through to him."

"I'll try," said Estella, giving her father a squeeze. At some point along the way, Remus had informed her of Harry's self-imposed exile; for while her godfather had not been to London for quite some time, her father had done his best to inform his friend of events, so that Estella could be brought up to speed on her way.

After showing Hermione into the upstairs drawing room, where the other teenagers were busy playing games, Estella dropped her things in her room before heading across the hall to her father's childhood bedroom. The door slightly ajar, Estella paused when she heard the distinct noises of a trunk being dragged along the floor.

"Running away, are we?" an old, snide, somewhat familiar voice spoke to the boy therein. After feeling a momentary stab of panic, Estella calmed when she realised that it was only a portrait.

"Not running away, no," she heard Harry say shortly, the sound of his trunk being moved towards the door punctuating the end of his sentence.

"I thought," said the portrait, "that to belong to Gryffindor house you were supposed to be _brave_? It looks to me as though you would have been better off in my own house. We Slytherins are brave, yes, but not stupid. For instance, given the choice, we will always choose to save our own necks."

"It's not my own neck I'm saving!" she heard Harry say tersely, and it finally clicked in her mind who the talkative portrait was: Phineas Nigellus.

"Oh, I _see_," said her great-great-great-grandfather, "this is no cowardly flight – you are being _noble_."

Noticing the door move slightly, as though Harry was just on the other side, with his hand on the doorknob, Estella backed away into the shadows. If he were to swing open the door suddenly, she would appear to be just emerging from her own room.

"I have a message for you from Albus Dumbledore." the portrait said suddenly, causing both teenagers to freeze.

"What is it?" said Harry, mirroring Estella's thoughts.

"Stay where you are."

"I haven't moved!" said Harry, his hand still upon the doorknob. "So what's the message?"

"I have just given it to you, dolt," said Phineas Nigellus smoothly. "Dumbledore says, '_Stay where you are_.'"

Almost feeling the tension rolling off of Harry, Estella figured that now would be an appropriate time to intervene; lest her father's ancestral home be down another portrait.

She knocked on the door.

"Hey, Harry… I see you're back to sharing with Ron again," said Estella casually, from behind the door. "Can I come in?"

"When did you get here?" Harry asked her, pulling open the door and grabbing her into a hug, surprising them both. Behind them, Phineas Nigellus stood in his frame, stroking his pointy beard and peering at them with interest. "I thought Umbridge would have kept you back…"

"Since when do I let something like that stop me?" said Estella, smirking as she returned the hug wholeheartedly. There was snow in her hair and her face was pink with cold as she turned to leer at the portrait sarcastically. "'Lo Phin… when you stumble back to Dumbledore to give him your daily spy report, tell him thanks for visiting me in the hospital and telling me what was going on – _not_!"

"You know," said Phineas Nigellus, scowling at his young heir, "this is precisely why I _loathed_ being a teacher! Impertinence!"

"Ah, you know you love me for it – I wouldn't be a real Black otherwise," said Estella, smirking at her ancestor. A close look at the charmed oil canvas would reveal that the old man therein was grinning slightly, the slight curl of his lips hidden by the pointed edges of his moustache. Grabbing Harry by the arm, she pulled him towards the door. "Let's go to the Drawing Room… Mrs Weasley's lit a fire and sent up sandwiches, and Dad tells me you skipped lunch."

Harry followed her back to the second floor. When he entered the room, he was rather surprised to see Ron, Ginny, and Hermione waiting for them, sitting on a pair of three-seater lounges.

"I know I was supposed to be going skiing with my parents," said Hermione in answer to their silent question. "I told them though that everyone who is serious about the exams is staying behind to study."

Beside her, Ron groaned.

"I bumped into Hermione when I came on the Knight Bus with Moony," said Estella airily, pulling off her jacket before Harry had time to speak. "For some reason I'd woken that night, compelled to see Dumbledore, but alas, I had a little run-in with toad-face when I tried to get there. It was _not_ pretty; she was positively livid that you lot disappeared right under her nose, even though Dumbledore told her the circumstances and had given you permission! Then when McGonagall covered for my being out of bed, phew, I didn't know a person's face could go that red!"

Hermione shot Estella a secretive look as the younger girl plonked herself down next to Harry, causing Harry to bounce slightly.

"How are you feeling?" Estella asked Harry.

"Fine," said Harry stiffly.

"Oh, don't lie, Harry," said Hermione impatiently. "Ron and Ginny say you've been hiding from everyone since you got back from St Mungo's."

"They do, do they?" said Harry, glaring at Ron and Ginny. Ron looked down at his feet but Ginny seemed quite unabashed.

"Well, you have!" she said. "And you won't look at any of us!"

"It's you lot who won't look at me!" said Harry angrily.

"Maybe you're taking it in turns to look, and keep missing each other," suggested Estella, the corners of her mouth twitching.

"Very funny," snapped Harry, turning away.

"Oh, stop feeling all misunderstood," said Estella sharply. "Look, I… I heard McGonagall talking to Pomfrey – and I've a feeling you've heard something similar, else you wouldn't be like this - "

"Yeah?" growled Harry, his hands deep in his pockets as he watched the snow now falling thickly outside. "All been talking about me, have you? Well, I'm getting used to it."

"That's absurd, Harry! Stop being so self-absorbed!" Estella snapped at him, getting up and moving so as to be facing him, sitting on the low table that sat between the two facing lounges. She was going to go on, but seeing the look on his face, she relented. "Look, no one is against you… correction, no one _here_ is against you! You're being paranoid. Don't push us away!"

"We wanted to talk _to you_, Harry," said Ginny, from behind Estella's shoulder where she was sitting on the lounge opposite the boy; "but as you've been hiding ever since we got back - "

"I didn't want anyone to talk to me," said Harry, who was looking more and more nettled.

"Well, that was a bit stupid of you," said Ginny angrily, "seeing as you don't know anyone but me who's been possessed by You-Know-Who, and I can tell you how it feels."

Harry remained quite still as the impact of these words hit him. Then he wheeled around.

"I forgot," he said.

"Lucky you," said Ginny coolly.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, and he meant it. "So… so, do you think I'm being possessed, then?"

"Well, can you remember everything you've been doing?" Ginny asked. "Are there big blank periods where you don't know what you've been up to?"

Harry racked his brains. "No," he said.

"Then You-Know-Who hasn't ever possessed you," said Ginny simply. "When he did it to me, I couldn't remember what I'd been doing for hours at a time. I'd find myself somewhere and not know how I got there."

Estella bit her lip. There was a stark contrast between the two situations: Ginny neither had a connection to Voldemort nor had she been possessed by the man himself, rather it was the magic within the diary. Seeing the relief on Harry's face, however, she found that she didn't have the heart to point it out. Hearing her father tramping past the door towards Buckbeak's room, singing 'God Rest Ye, Merry Hippogriffs' at the top of his voice, she rose and slipped from the room.

"At least you can carry a tune," she said, coming up behind her father as he continued singing to the giant Hippogriff in the room she'd followed him into. "I'd hate to think what Buckbeak would do if _I _broke out into song!"

Sirius spun around, "Merlin, Estella! Don't sneak up on me like that, my heart's not as young as it used to be!" he said, feigning the extent of his shock. Putting down the bucket of dead ferrets, he wiped his hands off on his robes and approached his only child. "C'mere, you! I haven't given you a proper hello!"

"Hey, it's not my fault that you wanted to pack me upstairs to sort out Harry," said Estella, teasingly.

"How is he?" said Sirius, the expression on his face making him age about ten years. Bowing his head, he sighed. "I find I am even more inept at being there for Harry as I am at being your father-"

"He's in the Drawing Room with the others, hoeing into the sandwiches Mrs Weasley sent up," said Estella, putting her father's mind at ease. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I think if Harry is not forthcoming with you, it's probably because he thinks that you're not being forthcoming with him."

"What? How could he think that? I've always tried to be up front with you kids… even at the risk of Molly's wrath!" said Sirius. "Everyone's always telling me I'm treating the pair of you as though you are older than you are –"

"Yes, and Harry knows that, believe me," said Estella soothingly. "But just remember how he was raised before he came here! Remember how much the Headmaster endeavoured to keep hidden from him! This vision was something that _no one _could explain, but what if Harry thinks that you lot being unable to give an explanation is a sign that something's being kept from him? For most of his life he didn't even know this world existed, and so it probably hasn't occurred to him that not even people like Dumbledore have all the answers… though quite frankly I can't really blame him for being suspicious."

"What can I do to make him trust me?" said Sirius, frowning. "I don't know why he's had those visions; and I keep telling him that-"

"I don't think there's much more you _can_ do," said Estella levelly. Reaching up to stroke Buckbeak's fur, she shook her head mirthlessly. "I suspect it's just a puberty thing… I mean his hormones are like a raging bull when it comes to girls; he doesn't seem to know what's going on _there_. It's entirely possible that the mix of Gryffindor foolishness and chemical overloads in his brain are making him a little screwed up. I can talk to my uncle if you like, see if there isn't a potion that'll level him out…"

Grabbing his daughter in a headlock, the sudden movement causing Buckbeak to whine in protest and try to nudge Sirius away from the child who had been paying him considerate attention, Sirius scowled.

"Since when did you get so smart?" he marvelled, rubbing his fist in her hair playfully. Letting go of her suddenly, he swallowed heavily; "and what do you mean, Harry doesn't know what's going on when it comes to girls? Has he said something to you?" he grinned, "has he _done_ something I should know about?"

"Da-ad!" whined Estella, shuddering slightly. "I'm observant, is all! Anyway, it's rather unorthodox for you to be talking to _me_ about Harry's girl issues. Isn't that supposed to be fodder for a father-son macho ritualistic testosterone-breeding bonding session?"

"But I'm not James," said Sirius, stilling suddenly, a sullen look on his face.

"Dad, we've been through this," said Estella, referring back to several of their past mirror-calls. "James is Harry's father, and you don't want to take James' place… you've already established that. Emphatically. But come on, as much as we all want it to happen, James cannot be here, but he did name _you_ Harry's godfather. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to know who he wanted to do all the fatherly stuff with Harry if he couldn't be here to do it himself."

Inhaling sharply, Sirius flung himself at his daughter and folded her up in a tight hug.

"Thank you," he said, kissing the top of her head. "How is it that you always know the right thing to say?"

Pulling back, Estella rolled her eyes. "Please, after a decade of trying to figure my uncle out, you're an open book… full of pictures and small words!"

Sirius grunted, a smile playing at his lips as father and daughter proceeded to feed the patient Hippogriff together, before leaving the room and heading down the hall, side by side.

"Right," he said, loosely wrapping an arm around her shoulders; "so you're sure it's not because your mother gave a detailed psychoanalysis of my character in that journal of hers?"

Thinking back to the meticulously-kept diary that she had all but memorised, Estella fought back her grin.

"Ravenclaws are rather known for their astute observations…" she said, letting her sentence hang as she bounded slightly ahead. Turning to face her father, she continued to walk backwards as she spoke. "It's a good thing Mum kept that journal with her future offspring in mind – cause I am sure she had certain _observations_ that would have scarred me for life!"

Catching the meaning of his daughter's words, Sirius had the decency to blush. Seeing this, Estella made a face and turned away, taking off down the hallway at an increased pace, muttering something about 'needing to get certain mental images out of her mind'.

* * *

Tonks arrived, as prescribed, in time for breakfast the next morning, back to her usual self, if a little drawn and pale.

"You okay?" said Estella, choosing to sit down next to the person who had been instrumental in her departure from Hogwarts. Leaning over and picking up a plate of toast, she offered it to the queasy-looking Auror. "Fred n' George told me you might feel a residual aversion to food, but that it's only illusionary. You should eat."

Cautiously, Tonks accepted the piece of toast Estella had busied herself with buttering lightly. Taking a small bite, the relief on her face was instantaneous, all outward appearances of queasiness disappearing from her features as she began to eat more ravenously, only pausing to quickly heap her plate with her usual portions of breakfast foods.

"Well that's a relief!" said Tonks after a few sustaining mouthfuls of eggs. Turning her attention to cutting up her sausage, she looked directly at Estella. "Me feeling like that would have spoiled our day-"

"Our day?" said Estella slowly, seeking clarification. Replaying the morning's events in her mind as she chewed thoughtfully on her food, she remembered that when she had first stepped into the kitchen, Tonks had been discussing something with her father. Reaching for her pumpkin juice, Estella reflected how she had taken her father's seat when the man had excused himself upon seeing her, disappearing upstairs 'to look for something'.

"Found it!" said her father, barrelling into the kitchen as though he had heeded an unheard call. Making a beeline for his cousin and daughter, he handed something small and plastic to the elder of the pair before looking at his daughter with a scrutinising look. "No piercing, no tattoos, no leather… I want to see straps on your shoulder and no skin above the knee… Moony, am I missing anything out?"

"No making yourself look older to sneak into R-rated films," said Remus without looking up from his newspaper.

"-and be home by five, otherwise I'll transfigure all your clothes into habits for a month!" finished Sirius.

Looking between the two men in confusion, Estella turned her gaze towards her cousin.

"What are they talking about?" she asked.

"You didn't tell her?" said Sirius.

"I was about to, when you walked in," said Tonks, finishing off her glass of pumpkin juice and wiping her hands on the thighs of her jeans. "Estella, I have the day off today, so I thought you might like to come shopping with me. Sirius has so thoughtfully donated us the use of his credit card again-"

"Really?" said Estella, grabbing the said piece of plastic from her cousin's hand and taking a closer look at it before looking at her father for confirmation. Seeing his nod, her eyes lit up. "Brilliant! There were still loads of places we didn't get to last time…" remembering her father's words, however, her shoulders fell slightly, "but no piercing, right?"

Sirius nodded, memories of his daughter's Glamoured appearance on her birthday coming to mind: he wasn't ready for that, not yet. "I've given Tonks detailed instructions, so there will be no excuses if these guidelines aren't met. But enough of all that… go and have a good time."

"What about Harry?" said Estella, shooting a look in his direction, "and the others?"

"Oh, Harry and I will be making a little side-trip to Surrey," said Sirius casually, causing the boy in question to choke on his milk. "I wouldn't be a very nice godfather if I didn't go and personally thank the Dursleys for all the time and care they've given our Harry. I do so want to wish them well for the holidays…"

Estella's mouth fell open, and suddenly, a day in Muggle London with the vast Black fortune at her fingertips did not seem as exciting. Many an idle moment over their summer had been spent concocting ways to exact Harry's revenge upon his Muggle relatives without raising the suspicions of the Ministry. Estella supposed that with allegations of Sirius' mental state being confined to the wizarding world, her father was quite free to roam the Muggle world at his leisure. The simple fact that he may still be recognised by a Muggleborn or magically-inclined person living outside the wizarding world kept his excursions short and on a strictly needs basis. It did not surprise Estella that her father was willing to make an exception in this instance, just as the timing – so close to Christmas – did not strike her as a coincidence. Noticing then, the pointed look her father was giving her, she held back what she was going to say, recognising in the man's silent plea, his wish to spend some 'quality time' with his godson.

"Oh," she said just as casually as she stood to leave, "give my regards to them, then. Do pass on my apologies that I wasn't able to meet them _this_ time."

Sirius grinned at his daughter approvingly and nodded. "Yes, we simply must invite them over for Easter – have them meet everybody!"

"Before or after you transfigure them into fluffy white rabbits and charge them with the duty of finding all your chocolate eggs?" said Estella coyly. Across the table, poor Harry was still trying to get over the shock of Sirius' earlier announcement; and she favoured the bespectacled Gryffindor now with a smile. "Don't hold anything back, Harry – Dad'll have your six."

"I still don't like this idea," said Mrs Weasley resignedly, catching their attention before they could physically leave the table. "You-Know-Who has almost equal bounties for both children, and Albus would never clear a venture out into the Muggle world without a substantial guard-"

"Molly!" Sirius roared at the Weasley woman as he noted his daughter absorbing this latest piece of information.

'_I bet Lucius is picking up the tab_,' Estella thought to herself with a shiver. She'd known that Lucius had asked the Dark Lord's favour in sparing her life, and that, in turn, Draco had been required to do something but she'd not been aware that Lucius was still after her; at least not now that her uncle had been granted guardianship and was seen to be cooperating with the blonde.

"Maybe I should stay in," said Estella quietly, not even having to confer with her uncle to know his bidding. "Just to be safe-"

"No," said Sirius firmly, rounding on his daughter. "By all reports, you're quarantined in St Mungo's, and the rest of us are in hiding." He glared at Molly, "I'm not so stupid to suggest we skip down Diagon Alley with targets on our backs – though given how busy it is this time of year we'd hardly stand out if we did. I trust the pair of you to stay out of trouble and not draw attention to yourselves in Muggle London. With the Christmas rush, you'll be fine, and you know what to do if not."

"But Sirius, you still cannot answer for me how we're going to be able to contact any of you in case of an emergency!" said Molly, protesting. "I know it's not my place to try and stop you from going, but I would feel a little more at ease -"

Inspired, Estella pulled out the small, handheld mirror she was almost never without and beckoned for her father and godfather to produce their own.

"Right, now all we need to do is for one of you to transfigure them into telephones. We won't be able to see each other, but we can still get in contact in a hurry-"

"Yes, but even I know Muggles don't walk around the streets with telephones," said Sirius with a frown, "although that James Bond character did have a phone in his shoe… maybe we _could_ do that…"

"Somehow I don't think walking down the street with one of our shoes to our ears will be very inconspicuous," said Estella with a laugh. She was pretty sure her Dad was actually referring to the T.V character Maxwell Smart, but she couldn't bring herself to correct him; not when he was so close. Instead, she pointed out the modern advances in Muggle telecommunication by drawing from another example of pop culture."Haven't you ever seen a cell phone on the T.V? Mulder and Scully talk to each other with one all the time, and it's how that cop spoke to his partner while on that bus in that bomb movie, remember?"

"She's right, you know," said Tonks with a smile as she pulled out her wand. "Cellular telephones are becoming increasingly popular with Muggles. My Dad has one from work, and ten years from now, I bet even kids younger than Estella will all have one. It'll be a perfect way for us to get in touch in a hurry."

Once the disguised mirrors were charmed to look and function like generic Muggle cells, the group helped clear the kitchen table before going their separate ways. Squeezing themselves into the crowded train half an hour later, Estella and Tonks made the short Tube ride into the centre of one of London's main shopping districts.

"I'm guessing Dad didn't like what I wore on my birthday," said Estella as they navigated their way out of the station's terminal. "Do you think he left anything out?"

"No, he was quite thorough," said Tonks, "but that's not to say we can't interpret his requests anyway we choose…"

Seeing the mischievous look in her cousin's eye, Estella soon forgot all about certain blonde-haired Slytherins and what her father and his godson were doing across town. By lunch time, they had gone through the list of things not to do, twisting and stretching their interpretation of those guidelines to reach their own ends. Instead of getting any part of her body pierced, Estella spent a great deal of time in a jewellers that specialised in clip-on and adhesive 'body art'. The same store had a Henna artist in residence who was only too happy to cover the backs of their hands and forearms with delicate, earthy designs that would last all the while longer thanks to the Charms Tonks spelled the work with after they left. Leather was subsequently substituted with a synthetic Muggle alternative, any exposed skin above her knees was covered with stockings, and there was no need to make Estella look older when they snuck into an R-rated film on account of the Disillusionment Spell Tonks had so handily cast whilst lining up at the box office.

"We really ought to buy my Dad something special for giving us so many wonderful ideas," said Estella happily, as she balanced the popcorn between them and made herself comfortable. She had no intention of filling her wardrobe with a garish wardrobe, and had in fact bought mostly normal and functional clothes, but they had delighted in temporarily overhauling her look just to exploit the loopholes in her father's directions.

Tonks shovelled a handful of popcorn in her mouth and nodded. "Yes, and now you've successfully snuck in to the feature, I can take off that charm and make you look older just in case any ushers come round looking for empty seats," she waited until the lights had finished going down before discreetly poking her wand in Estella's side and muttering a few words. "There. Don't you just love creative licence?"

* * *

"Creative licence!" spluttered an indignant werewolf upon laying eyes on his goddaughter when the pair had gotten home a little before five. "_Creative licence_?"

Cheekily, Estella pulled out her father's list and delighted in pointing out all the loopholes she and her cousin had managed to exploit.

"So you see, we didn't really go against any of the instructions, and so long as I wear a robe over them I won't be violating any of the school dress codes. Tonks has already given me a catalogue for a Muggleborn seamstress who has a range that will best compliment-"

"You do realise that Severus will likely have us castrated for letting you run around London dressed like that!" said Remus, paling slightly. "I can't wait to hear what your father has to say about it-"

"What I have to say about what, Moony?" said Sirius, having Apparated into the hallway mid-sentence; the man too busy picking Harry up off the floor and taking off his Muggle jacket to notice what his daughter was wearing. Reaching past Estella, who was standing between him and the coat rack, he looked up briefly only to do a double take as he took in her appearance. "You better be Tonks in Morph…"

Looking over her father's shoulder towards the witch in question, who was inching her way towards the staircase, Estella side stepped her father slowly before following her fleeing cousin at a run.

"Run!" she cried out, hoping to make her get away before she collapsed into the fit of giggles that threatened to incapacitate her.

Staring after the stampeding pair in disbelief, Sirius shook his head. "I knew it. That cousin of mine…" he growled, looking towards his best friend for back up. "What'd they think? That they could burn the list and not have any consequences? I warned her… if they didn't abide by the list, it goes back! I meant it!"

Sighing, Remus shook his head sadly, though a smile was playing at his lips as he held out the relinquished list. "Don't get me wrong, Sirius, I had a conniption too when she walked in dressed like that," said Remus; "but I got to hand it to them, they did a damn thorough job at accounting for each of the directions we gave them. They haven't done anything wrong."

Snatching the list from his friend's hand and reading over the scrawled notes and admissions that the two girls had added to each of his carefully constructed conditions, Sirius began to gape.

"Well I'll be!" he exclaimed, beginning to wave the piece of parchment around in excitement. "They bloody well outplayed us!"

Harry could only watch on in confusion as his godfather began to laugh, a distinct pride glittering in his eyes as he wiped mirthful tears from them.

"Wait, you're not mad?" said Harry, looking between the two marauders warily.

"Oh I'm mad as hell," said Sirius flatly; "mad as hell that I wasn't more bloody specific! Here," – he shoved the list towards his godson – "look! They circumvented each of these conditions with creative reasoning… it truly is a work of art. I only gave Tonks the list at breakfast too… we really underestimated the pair of them, didn't we Moony?"

"A mistake we won't easily repeat," said Remus primly, his eyes travelling upwards.

"So she can keep those clothes, then?" said Harry incredulously.

"I've no choice," said Sirius, endeavouring to explain. "It's the Maraduer's Code. I laid down the rules at the beginning of the day, and _technically_ they have not broken any of them. To get mad and take away her things because she went and did something I overlooked wouldn't be fair because I've only myself to blame for letting it happen."

"But couldn't you argue that you trusted them to assume that the rules extended to cover all the things they've substituted it all for as well?" said Harry, looking over the list with wide eyes. "It's clear from this that there was a certain overall look you wanted them to avoid."

Sirius considered this for a moment. "True," he said, but then he shook his head; "but I didn't _specify_ that. Besides, it would be unethical for me to punish Estella for simply abiding by her interpretation of the rules – your father and I would have tripled the number of detentions we got in Hogwarts if we hadn't impressed upon the teachers our own unique interpretations of the school rules."

"Your father and Sirius also hold the record for inspiring the most number of changes to the school rules, you know," added Remus.

"You didn't think you were the only Potter bound for the history books, did you?" said Sirius. "Prongs n' I are mentioned liberally throughout the school charter; didn't Hermione tell you? It should all be written in _Hogwarts: A History_."

"Hermione's edition is out of date," said Remus with a wry smile, knowing that Harry would now have something to trump the exceedingly bright witch. "The standard editions of _Hogwarts: A History_ are only republished once every fifty years or so. Only those who have been in the employ of the school can get access to self-updating editions… I can assure you that it makes for interesting reading."

"It _does_?" said Sirius, surprised. "You mean me and Prongs are actually mentioned?" Remus nodded sheepishly and started to back away. "Moony, it's been _years_ since you were a Hogwarts professor, and you're only just telling me _now_?"

"Well I gave my copy to Estella," said Remus, "and she only ever mentioned it in passing because she assumed I'd read it all -"

"You gave a book away without reading it first?" said Sirius, blinking in surprise.

"If I read _every_ book I was given, don't you think the Sorting Hat would have placed me in Ravenclaw?" said Remus testily. "Don't give me that look, Sirius Black…"

Remembering that he was dealing with two Marauders, and that two grinning Marauders with their wands drawn was not a good combination when you were in the potential crossfire, Harry made a dash for the stairs, the sounds of hexes and flashes of light breaking out in his stead.

* * *

They worked tirelessly in the run-up to Christmas Day, cleaning and decorating, so that by the time they all went to bed on Christmas Eve the house was barely recognisable. The tarnished chandeliers that had only ever been given a cursory clean in the past were no longer hung with cobwebs but with garlands of holly and gold and silver streamers; magical snow glittered in heaps over the threadbare carpets; a great Christmas tree, obtained by Mundungus and decorated with live fairies, took up almost the entire width of the wall, and even the stuffed elf-heads on the wall wore Father Christmas hats and beards.

Estella awoke on Christmas morning in her room, with Ginny and Hermione asleep on beds either side of her. Now that relations between all the respective teenagers was amicable, there was no longer a point to Estella and Harry sharing a room. Climbing out of bed quietly so as not to wake the other two, however, Estella found it strange to be away from school and _not_ sharing a room with Harry – she had become so accustomed to it over the last few weeks of summer. Sneaking out of the room, she made the short trip across the hall and let herself into Harry's room when she'd detected voices from within.

"Good haul this year," said Ron to Harry not noticing Estella's entrance. "Thanks for the Broom Compass, it's excellent; beats Hermione's – she got me a _homework planner_ – uh, 'morning Estella."

"'Morning Ron, Happy Christmas…" said Estella, pausing as she sat down next to Harry and gave him a one-armed hug; whispering in his ear, she sniggered. "…_Harry_ Christmas, you. Looks like someone forgot to tell _Father Christmas_ that I'd switched rooms, huh?"

"Oh yeah," said Harry, shoving Estella playfully at the joke. Then, busying himself with his own shrieking homework planner, he craned his neck towards a second pile of presents. "There's yours…"

For the next few moments, there was nothing but the sounds of ripping paper and shuffling as presents were opened, inspected and set aside. Remus had gotten Harry a set of books entitled _Practical Defensive Magic and its Use Against the Dark Arts, _whilst Estella had received another set in the series detailing practical _offensive_ magic. Hagrid had sent everyone, it seemed, a furry brown wallet each with fangs, which were presumably supposed to be an anti-theft device, but unfortunately prevented any of them putting any money in without serious bodily harm. From Tonks, Estella got a couple of new CDs and a framed magical photograph that had been taken of all of them on her birthday. Then, to her surprise, she had also received a hand-knitted Weasley jumper, as well as a homework planner from Hermione and sweets from Ron. Mentally, Estella thanked her foresight for having already gotten them gifts in turn. Next to her, Harry was turning a piece of parchment upside down when, with a loud _crack_, Fred and George Weasley Apparated at the foot of the bed.

"Merry Christmas," said George. "Don't go downstairs for a bit."

"Why not?" said Ron.

"Mum's crying again," said Fred heavily. "Percy sent back his Christmas jumper."

"Without a note," added George. "Hasn't asked how Dad is or visited him or anything."

Estella frowned. Though she did not get along spectacularly well with the over-bearing mother hen, it saddened her to think that one of the woman's children could be so cruel. She'd give anything to have spent just one Christmas with both of her parents, and so to see a person taking shameless advantage of their family, was just something she couldn't bring herself to understand. The wheels in her mind turning, she listened as the twins continued to explain.

"We tried to comfort her," said Fred, moving around the bed to look at Harry's portrait. "Told her Percy's nothing more than a humungous pile of rat droppings."

"Didn't work," said George, helping himself to a Chocolate Frog. "So Lupin took over. Best let him cheer her up before we go down for breakfast, I reckon."

Making up her mind, Estella stood up.

"Where are you going?" Harry grabbed her hand.

"I'm going downstairs to thank Mrs Weasley for her lovely gift," said Estella simply, an unidentifiable gleam in her eyes. With that, she picked up the jumper – which was, of course, in Ravenclaw colours – and pulled it on as she walked towards the door.

Entering the kitchen a few moments later, stopping only to run her plan past her father who happened to be stumbling out into the hallway as she passed his room, Estella was greeted with the sign of a weeping Mrs Weasley slumped in a chair at the kitchen table. Her godfather, meanwhile, was busying himself brewing a pot of tea on the stove. Used to children sneaking around, Estella's stealthy entrance into the room did not go unnoticed by the mother of seven, the woman straightening in her chair and attempting to compose herself.

"You needn't go to such efforts with me, Mrs Weasley," said Estella softly, her voice causing her godfather to turn around and look at her in surprise. He'd clearly been the one responsible for sending the twins upstairs to warn them. "'morning Uncle Remus. Happy Christmas!"

"Good morning, Estella," said Remus, moving away from the stove to welcome his goddaughter into a quick embrace. "Happy Christmas… you're up a little _early_, aren't you? Have you opened your presents already?"

Estella gestured to her new Weasley Jumper and rolled her eyes. "Yes," she said pointedly, her eyes flicking from her godfather, to the door, to the woman at the table in front of them and back again. "Dad wants a few words with you. Something about wands getting crossed and doubling up on something? You should bump into him on your way upstairs, if he's not in the living room already…"

Seeing through Estella's rouse, Remus looked at Estella intently to gauge her intent before nodding in understanding and excusing himself, leaving the two females alone. Realising that she was alone with a child, Mrs Weasley jumped up and tried to distract herself by slipping into her over-bearing mother-role, but Estella would have none of it.

Declining all offers of food and beverage, Estella held the bustling woman's gaze, bidding her to stop. "Mrs Weasley, I just wanted to come downstairs before everyone else and thank you personally for my jumper – it was very thoughtful of you."

Dabbing at her eyes as they were threatening to start spilling over again, Mrs Weasley took a shaky breath and nodded, "that's quite all right, child; I couldn't impose myself upon your Christmas holiday without giving you the same as I give all the other children. I didn't want anyone to miss out. I hope you have a Happy Christmas, Estella."

Seeing right through the woman's brave front, Estella threw her arms around the woman's waist and hugged her warmly.

"I hope _you_ have a Happy Christmas, Mrs Weasley," she said, pulling away and gesturing for the woman to sit. "Now, as my present to you, why don't _you_ sit down and let someone see to _your_ needs for a change. Tea?"

Between the tears that were determined to fall, Mrs Weasley tried to protest, her voice hitching with emotion. "But breakfast…"

"Will be late," said Estella firmly. "In any event, my Dad and Uncle Remus will have it covered, so sit down and tell me, one lump or two?"

Bewildered by the young girl's assertiveness, Mrs Weasley grappled with the unfamiliar feeling of idleness. Never before had she not been able to throw herself into her motherly duties when something was getting her down. Seeing an opportunity for distraction, she looked towards the kitchen door.

"The other children…" she began, her voice trailing off as Estella turned to look at her, a steaming tea cup in each hand.

"Have been otherwise detained," said Estella, setting down a cup in front of the woman before taking her own seat. Taking a deep breath, she looked the woman directly in the eye. "I didn't just come down here to thank you for my jumper… I heard about Percy."

"How are my children taking it?" said Mrs Weasley, "are they all right? I should be strong for them… it must be like losing a brother to them… oh how could I be so selfish! Letting Remus turn the twins away like that! What kind of mother am I, driving away my own children?"

"Mrs Weasley, drink some tea," said Estella quietly, nudging the saucer towards the sobbing woman. She had, of course, dosed the woman's cup with a mild Calming Potion. "It'll help."

Allured by the calming aroma of the steam as she inhaled, the older woman complied distractedly, the effects instantaneous. "Why thank you, dear, this is simply spectacular tea," she said, a relaxed look on her face.

Satisfied that the doped tea had taken its effect, Estella began to speak, her tone clear and neutral.

"Mrs Weasley, you mustn't let what Percy did get to you," she said, holding her breath as she waited for the woman's reaction. When she saw it was subdued by the potion, she continued. "Now I want you to listen to me, Mrs Weasley, and I want you to pay very close attention to what I have to say. You are _not_ a bad mother…"

* * *

"Blimey, Estella, what did you do to my mother?" said Ron, ogling at his mother as she flitted around the kitchen over lunch a few hours later, the cheery woman _humming_ a tune as she saw to coordinating the courses of the meal, overseeing the two house elves – Dobby and Winky – that Dumbledore had loaned them for the rest of the holidays.

"I simply let her know how appreciated she is," said Estella pointedly, "maybe _you_ should try it some time, Ronald. I know you must feel like you miss out, having to share your mother's time with so many others, but not everyone is lucky enough to have both parents."

Ron gaped at the deadly serious girl across from him, his eyes narrowing in dissent.

"Hey!" he spluttered, about to point out that his relationship with his parents was none of her bloody business.

"And while you're at it," said Estella, standing up with the intent of assisting the bustling woman with the last minute preparations; "you can start doing things when first asked and fend for yourselves once in a while; give your mother a break from waiting on you hand and foot for a change-"

"-but she _likes_ it!" said George, overhearing what the young girl was saying about their mother. "Doesn't she, Fred?"

"Whenever we insist to help, she shoos us away," said George earnestly, "I don't think she trusts us…"

"Besides, she's only doing the stuff mothers are supposed to do," said Ron arrogantly, "no offence, but what do you know?"

Had she not been sitting across the table from the bigoted boy, Estella would have slapped him. Thankfully, Ginny was sitting next to her brother, and saved her the trouble, leaving the youngest Weasley boy with an impressive red handprint on his cheek.

"Shut your mouth, Ronald," said Ginny, "Estella's absolutely right! We don't appreciate Mum nearly as much as we should."

Blinking away the burning tears that threatened to spill over the surface, Estella stood to lean over the table, balancing her weight on her fists as she rested them on the table, her knuckles white.

"I may not have grown up with a mother, Ronald Weasley," said Estella scathingly. "But let me tell you a thing or two about an _equal_ household! When it was just my godfather and I, I helped him with all the meals and chores until I was old enough to take on my fair share. The same applied when Dad and later Harry came to stay… Tonks too, when we holidayed together. Many hands make light work, boys, and it doesn't surprise me that you've been too wrapped up in yourselves to notice when everyone else has been insisting upon helping your mother, in turn."

"But like the twins said, she turns us away when we offer to help! She doesn't want any help!" said Ron indignantly.

"Since when is it Gryffindor behaviour to take 'no' for an answer? What happened to using your initiative? You mother says no, because she doesn't want you to feel obligated. Have you ever tried going in there and doing something you knew needed doing? Surely you have observed your mother enough to know how she likes things done… or perhaps if you did as I do and simply walk in and say 'what needs doing?' in a tone that makes it undeniably clear that you're there to help and won't leave until the job is done she will be only too happy to give you something to do. It can get very lonely in a kitchen by yourself, you know-"

"But why would we want to set ourselves up like that when we can be outside playing Quidditch," said Fred; "like Mum is always suggesting, mind you!"

"How much time do you spend with your mother, Fred?" said Estella quietly. "You know, my uncle didn't always have time for me when I was growing up. Teaching all day and then having to oversee a House and mark papers at night takes up a lot of time; and that's not including his obligations as a Potions supplier. Do you think my uncle had the time to play games and look after a small child? Once I outgrew my playpen, I started helping and observing my uncle at work. At two, I was sorting the work he was grading into houses. I learned to recognise letters of the alphabet by the marks he would give students, which, by the time I was four, I could sort things in alphabetical order. When I was three, I could identify the different species of Mandrake, by four I could tell you their uses. At five, I could identify most all of the ingredients in the student supply cupboard just by sight and smell, and at six I was reciting their Latin variants. It may horrify you, but I spent most of my free time doing things you would consider to be the stuff of horrible detentions… and what's more, some of my best childhood memories are of working alongside my uncle in his Potions lab. There's a certain thing to be said about helping a member of your family do something, and then doing it well, but I suppose you wouldn't know too much about that, would you? You were outside, playing _Quidditch_."

At that, Estella picked up her glass, stood up, and stalked off upstairs, bound for the living room where her father would invariably be found 'off with the fairies'. Watching the stairwell as she left, Ron let out a low whistle.

"Blimey… she's mental," he shook his head. "Spending time with Snape voluntarily, finger-deep in rotting potions ingredients!"

"Shut it, Ron," said Harry testily, glaring at his best friend. "At least Snape wanted to spend time with his niece! My aunt and uncle never paid attention to me, and the only time they ever showed me how to do something was so they no longer had to do it themselves!" his face hardened. "Estella had a point too, you know. If my only opportunity to see my mother again was by helping her do the dishes every day of my life, I would do it in an instant; but you know what, _I_ can't!"

Taking a leaf from Estella's book, Harry pushed back his chair and left the kitchen, leaving three equally stunned Weasley boys mulling over their relationship with their mother. They realised with sickening clarity that, of the seven, they had probably overlooked their mother the most. If they weren't outside playing Quidditch, they were causing trouble of some variety; either the twins blowing things up, or Ron teasing his sister. By comparison, Bill and Charlie had always been there for their mother, helping her look after the younger children while she got some of the more intensive chores done. The elder two boys had patiently assisted their siblings in their lessons as their mother endeavoured to home-school them, and as the only other girl in the household, Ginny was always following their mother around, eager to learn how to knit and sew and help the older women wherever she could.

Percy, on the other hand, had been pompously self-involved and equally preoccupied with his books to pay _anyone_ attention as they were growing up. The mere implication that the youngest three boys were thus more like their git of a brother Percy than the other, older, more considerate sons, was enough to spur them into action. Leaping up simultaneously, the twins conjured dish cloths for them all, and, once armed, they hurried to their mother's side.

"What can we do to help?" they chimed, the three sounding like triplets as they addressed their mother completely in sync.

Eying her most mischievous sons sceptically, Molly Weasley was stunned by their uncharacteristic behaviour. Surprised when she could sense no untoward motives to their sudden helpfulness, she looked around the kitchen for a moment, her eyes searching for something her boys could do. Realising that she hadn't even started on the vegetables, she gasped at her oversight and started giving the boys orders. When none of them complained, the trio setting to their task and making the effort of conversing with her amiably, she couldn't help but smile. Thoughts of the son who had flown the nest and turned his back on her were momentarily forgotten, and she concentrated on having a very happy Christmas.

* * *

Meanwhile, upstairs, Harry had found Estella alone in the little-used front room of the house, curled up by the window in her favourite chair.

"Hey, you all right?" Harry asked, slipping into the room and setting himself down on an ottoman across from Estella. "Why do I get the impression that was not just about what you spoke with Mrs Weasley this morning?

"Because it wasn't," said Estella woefully, hugging her knees to her chest and gazing sightlessly out the window. A short note lay forgotten on the small side table beside her, the parchment worn and wrinkled as though it had been folded and read many times. "This is the first Christmas I won't be seeing my uncle… I'd thought he'd be by for dinner at least, like last year, but he's stuck with the _Malfoys_ all day."

"Oh," said Harry, not quite knowing what to say. Even though he knew Snape was Estella's uncle, he couldn't quite reconcile the man as someone who anyone would particularly miss.

"It's all right, Harry. I know what my uncle is like," said Estella heavily. "I don't expect you to understand how I could be missing him – you having to spend Christmas at the school when you could otherwise be here would be the closest comparison."

"Having a good time, but something being missing?" said Harry.

"Yeah," said Estella, unravelling herself to stretch her legs out in front of her. She picked up her uncle's note, re-folded it and placed it back in her pocket. "But it's stupid, I should be concentrating on what I have; I mean at least my Dad isn't in hospital;" she paused. "Perhaps I was a little harsh on the boys… their Dad is in hospital…"

"No, I think it is just what they needed to hear," said Harry. "With Percy being a git and Mr Weasley being in hospital, Mrs Weasley needs them right now, more than I think they realise… and they needed something to concentrate on too."

Estella nodded, remorse leaving her as she made herself more comfortable on her chair.

"So tell me, Harry," she said; "speaking of family… how'd did your little adventure to Surrey go?"

Memories flooding back to him, Harry's eyes began to glint reminiscently, and he smiled shrewdly.

"Well…"

* * *

Christmas lunch was a hearty, bustling affair. The rooms within number 12 Grimmauld Place were transformed as its occupants indulged themselves cheerfully, laughter and music bouncing off the once-dreary walls. After lunch, the adults exchanged gifts with their respective children. Though Remus had already left a present out for her that morning, he had also collaborated with Sirius in getting her a set of tutorial books to assist her with her Transfiguration.

While her uncle had requested that they exchange their gifts in person after the holidays, there was a present under the tree for her nevertheless. Recognising the obscure book about Phoenixes that she had been meaning to get out from the library, Estella was further surprised to find a note from the Headmaster inside, providing tips on what to read first. Tucking the note out of sight, she set the book aside, realising without being told that the book was not really from her uncle, but merely disguised as such to avoid drawing attention, and turned her attention towards a large box that her father was beckoning for both her and Harry to open. Beside her, Harry put down the penknife her father had gotten his godson and moved over slightly so that Sirius could set the box down between them.

"What on earth?" said Estella once the box had been opened, revealing several musical instruments. "We don't know how to play-"

"Never mind that," said Harry, reaching to pick up a guitar the length of his forearm; "_house elves _couldn't play these!"

"They've been shrunk, soil for brains," said Estella, rolling her eyes.

"And charmed," said Sirius, handing her a sheet of parchment about a foot long. "Lenny set me up – you remember, that old friend who set me up with those passes on your birthday? He's freelancing now, you know. Trying to start a business, supplying charmed Muggle instruments that Muggleborns can teach themselves how to play by repetition-"

"-in full view of Muggles," Harry marvelled. "That's bloody brilliant!"

Estella, meanwhile, remained hesitant.

"Wait, I thought Len was a Squib," she said suspiciously, her narrowed eyes slowly widening in surprise. "So _this_ is what you've been working on?"

"Moony 'n me both," admitted Sirius, sharing a conspiring look with his best friend. "This Order business doesn't particularly pay too well, you know…"

Estella herself had initially been taught how to play the piano by her uncle transferring his knowledge to her each time she wanted to play a particular piece. The thought, then, that someone had managed to infinitely store a set list into an instrument, charming it to instil the user with the necessary skills upon command, was magic she had never thought possible. Around her, others quickly agreed, openly fawning over the gleaming new instruments as Remus and Sirius cleared a space in the room and enlarged the magically modified pieces.

"It's kind of like a sophisticated type of Karaoke," said Hermione analytically. "Or those electric keyboards with the light-up keys… but I've never heard of anything magical that imparts knowledge… imagine if they could do that to books!"

Hearing this, everyone rolled their eyes, though Remus and Estella were looking rather thoughtful.

Finally, Sirius spoke. "We'll have to be sure to leave this all set up and give a little bit of a show when Arthur gets out of hospital, mmm?" He said, looking to the Weasley children for approval. Then, as though realising something, he frowned slightly and looked towards Molly. "I am pretty sure this won't count as misuse of Muggle artefacts – it will be good to get Arthur's opinion on the legalities involved with marketing something like this. Remus and I may have done the spellwork, but Len's really the one with all the connections – he's pretty keen to secure a patent and get things moving."

The next few hours were spent with everyone taking turns at various instruments, music filling the house, whilst those watching danced and drank egg nog. While a person could sing along at the microphone if they wanted to, it appeared as though Lenny had used his contacts in the music industry – magical and Muggle alike – to secure one track recordings of the featured band's vocalists singing lyrics that would come through the mouth of whoever was playing the role. Sirius, however, preferred to use his own voice, belting out the tunes with a youthful enthusiasm that was quite catching, the twins supplying boisterous, off-key backing vocals with fervour.

As those of age became all the more merry, the entertainment became all the more hilarious; Estella and the man's former students being treated to the rare sight of Remus Lupin, roaring drunk. Seeing her father exchange a conspiring look with the twins, she realised that they must have spiked her godfather's drink. She went to ask Mrs Weasley to cast a Sobering Charm – for she knew she could not perform under-aged magic in front of the adults without reproach – but the woman was too busy laughing. The middle-aged woman had not yet taken to the 'stage', but had delighted in continuously requesting songs by her favourite singer, Celestina Warbeck… and it just so happened that a highly inebriated werewolf was only too happy to acquiesce to the woman's requests, heartily lip-synching along to the witch's warbling overtures while his backing band of teenagers played on determinedly, their faces red with suppressed laughter.

Watching on in horror as her godfather began a reprieve of Celestina Warbeck's jazzy 'A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love', Estella realised that she no longer wanted to rescue her godfather from his unwitting humility. Handing over his bass guitar to Tonks, the shape-shifting witch keen to take to the stage, Harry collapsed into a fit of laughter next to Estella, tears of mirth rolling down this cheeks. Grinning wickedly at the Boy-Who-Lived, Estella began to snicker.

"This is priceless… brilliant…" she said between breaths; the girl too busy laughing to form sentences. "Moony'll never dob me in to my uncle, never again!"

"And Luna'll love those pictures of your Dad; for the _Quibbler_," said Harry, chuckling. "Toad-face will go nuts when she sees us as band members – and the best thing is, that with that magazine's reputation, we can plausibly deny everything!"

"Or we could admit to it and drive her crazy with not knowing how we pulled it off right under her nose!" said Estella.

The song ending in a building crescendo, Sirius threw a Sobering Charm at his friend, giving the werewolf both his sobriety and full knowledge of all he had done whilst under the influence. Whether retaliative for not being brought back to his senses sooner, or knowing that he'd had a little 'help' in getting intoxicated, Remus growled and chased Sirius out of the room, his wand drawn. Too busy listening to the ruckus that broke out when the two old school friends caught up with each other, no one paid any mind to what the twins were doing with the Mistletoe…

End Chapter 

**Next Chapter: **Due Friday 2nd June.

**A/N:** Apologies for this chapter being a few hours late. Yesterday was a rather significant day in my family, and so after picking me up from work, my brother and I caught up with a few close friends for dinner and a movie (_The Da Vinci Code_); and I didn't get home until 2am… yawn (since I've been up cleaning since 7…)

**A/A/N: **(_Another_ Author's Note): This story will now run to be _twenty-six_ chapters following advice from my Beta about splitting Chapter 18 in two… there is a bit of rewriting to be done to make Chapter 18.2 a stand alone chapter, so if it looks like June 2 is out of the question, I'll update my Author Profile that day with a progress report.


	19. Encounters

**Updated: Saturday 3 June 2006**

**Disclaimer: If I were making money off of this, I wouldn't have to have a full time job that keeps me from updating on time... And if you don't know who it all really belongs to, then you must be lost… **

**Chapter 19: Encounters**

The grate slammed shut with a loud _clang_! Dinner with the Malfoys was taxing at the best of times, but when it came at the expense of time with his niece at Christmas, Severus had cause to be particularly bitter. Two years had barely passed since his brother-in-law had claimed custody of Estella, and yet it already felt like a lifetime. Estella had changed so much, and making that transition from 'little girl' into a teenager away from the man who had raised her made Severus feel even more ostracised from his niece. He felt as though she was slipping away from him, and recent events did little to quell his fears.

Pouring himself a much needed drink of Fire Whiskey, Severus crossed the room in several long strides and fell dejectedly into his chair. Wearily, he ran a hand across his face and stared into the thick amber fluid in his glass. With Estella in London, the room around him held no evidence of the passing holiday… for the first time in over a decade, no tinsel framed the mantle, and the scent of an evergreen was sorely missing. It was the same as it was in the time before Severus had first taken guardianship of his motherless niece, and as he allowed himself to be enveloped by the oppressive silence in the room, it occurred to him how much he had actually come to enjoy the small concessions he had to make when living with a growing child.

A growing child. Severus rested the edge of his glass against his forehead, allowing the charmed ice within to cool the beginnings of his headache. Irrespective of where she called home, Severus did not like to imagine his niece growing up. Though it hadn't felt like it at the time, things were so much simpler when Estella was small. Now, as he noticed her getting older, things were becoming much more complicated than he could ever possibly have imagined…

The conversation he'd most recently had with his niece had struck him out of the blue. It had both horrified and humoured him… horrified him that Estella would be harbouring such thoughts about _any_ boy, lest of all Harry Potter, and yet humoured him because she had still seen fit to come to him for advice. Not only had he never considered himself on par with the brand of emotional support the girl's godfather – and later, father – could effortlessly lavish upon his niece, but he had been certain that their tenuous bond would have been irreparably damaged in the wake of what had happened on the eve of her birthday. Indeed, Estella had avoided him for several weeks, and in the months since he'd noticed the girl become a little cagey during their reinstated tutoring sessions; though whether that was just because of the subject matter or memories of that night, was anyone's guess.

Now, as uncle and niece spent their first Christmas truly apart from each other, Severus could not help but feel retrospective. The similarities between Estella and his sister were first and foremost aesthetic, but for those who knew Selina well, the likeness between mother and daughter was emerging to be more than just skin deep. There was an undeniable spark that they both shared; a fierce capacity to love - to forgive – and an unmatched power to bring people together. Severus knew that of the three men who had fashioned themselves as Estella's guardians, her protectors, all would go to the ends of the world for their charge. Severus was no exception.

When Estella had first hinted to pursuing a romantic relationship with the likes of Harry Potter, Severus was surprised by his lack of concern. Of course, the idea of a union between his niece and the son of his childhood nemesis grated at him, and he was undeniably relieved when her musings turned out to be nothing more than just that; but if Severus was honest with himself there wasn't much that he wouldn't subject himself to in order to see his niece happy. His raising of her had, after all, been all about giving the girl choices. He had learnt the hard way what imposing his beliefs upon another could do to a relationship, and he did not want to lose his niece in the same way he'd lost Selina. There was nothing he regretted more than trying to get in the way of the direction his sister's heart was pulling her, and so when it came to the living proof of the love Selina had held for his childhood enemy, Severus was committed to support whatever decision she would make, even if it meant that he had to keep his distance.

Glancing up at a picture of his niece as he downed the stale fluid in his snifter, Severus toasted the empty glass at her image.

"Happy Christmas," he whispered to the empty room, hoping that whatever his niece was doing at that moment, she was happy.

* * *

"Why can't we just Obliviate everyone? Why not?" said Estella exasperatedly. She had locked herself in her room ever since she and Harry had found themselves trapped under the Weasley twins' mistletoe; she had only let her godfather in when it became clear that all of the other teenagers had left to visit Mr Weasley.

"Come on now, cub, it can't be as bad as all that," said Remus. "I'd rather have kissed Tonks under the Mistletoe than have everyone witness me singing with a woman's voice like _that_!"

"Oh _really_," said Estella, side-tracked by her godfather's unwitting admission.

Remus scowled at his goddaughter. "I didn't mean it like _that_," he said unconvincingly. "A kiss is just a kiss… hardly as humiliating as making a fool of oneself whilst under the influence." He grimaced. "Besides, that's whom the twins were intending to target: Tonks and I."

"It's not the kiss that's bothering me," said Estella testily.

"It's _not_?" said Remus, looking upon his goddaughter in surprise, infinitely glad that he was present in the room and not Sirius.

Estella threw a cushion at him. "Hypocrite," she said, "you know what I mean. A kiss is just a kiss…"

"But?" said Remus beseechingly.

"But it was my _first_ kiss! In front of _everyone_… and it was _Harry_!" said Estella hysterically. "It's not supposed to be _Harry_! I was supposed to have all that sorted out… now everything is all messed up! You _know_ how that Lust Dust is supposed to work-"

"Perhaps it was erroneously drawing from the platonic feelings you have for Harry," said Remus. "It won't work between people separated by age, or connected by blood – for all the obvious reasons – but it can't be expected to anticipate the nature of the relationship between you and Harry."

"Wait, you're not going to spill some rot about how I should reconsider if I really do see Harry as a brother or if it's something more?" said Estella, mouth agape.

"Now you're confusing me with your father," said Remus. "Even still, I think even Sirius is beginning to realise a few things. He was mad as hell at the twins, and you have no idea how rare it is for Padfoot to not take a joke…" he paused with uncertainty, not quite knowing if it was appropriate to voice his next question. "_Are_ you starting to question the nature of your relationship with Harry?"

Estella ignored her godfather's question, the distant look on her face suggesting that she didn't quite know how to answer the man's query. Instead, she frowned, something Remus had just said to her in passing presenting her with a side of her father that she didn't know. "Dad really got mad? But he loves pranks…"

"Every prankster has his exceptions," said Remus philosophically. "If I wasn't so worried about you, I doubt there would be much of the twins left. Will you be all right, or would you really like for me to try my hand at Memory Charms?"

"You would do that, even after what happened last time?" said Estella, blinking her eyes in surprise. She was, of course, referring to the time when she was a small child and her godfather had taken away her memory of falling off a broom, inadvertently leaving her with a fear of flying; something that took almost a decade to confront. "I wasn't being serious…"

"Good, because I'd probably give everyone a fear of intimacy," quipped Remus, grimacing slightly at the thought.

"Oh, and we couldn't have Tonks with one of those," said Estella dryly, her words coming so fast that it took Remus a moment to catch their meaning.

Between the gales of laughter her godfather solicited from her with a handy Tickling Hex, Estella begged for mercy.

"No fair!" she said, reminding her godfather of the Marauder's Code and how it was unfair to use one's wand on an opponent who could not retaliate in kind. "No under-aged magic!"

"Like that's stopped you before," said Remus challengingly. Before she could take his words as permission, he released her from the spell. "I wouldn't worry too much about what happened, cub. From what Sirius told me, Harry's on the same boat. Seems that something you've said to him has cleared things up in his mind…"

"He likes Ginny, doesn't he?" Estella said suddenly. "_That's_ why he didn't want to be alone with Cho all of a sudden, and how come he's been paying so much attention to how Ron reacts to Ginny dating…" her voice trailed off as she remembered something from the start of term. "Oh this is classic. You know Ginny never got over her crush…"

"How long do you think it will take them to realise it?" said Remus, eyes twinkling

"I don't know," said Estella, "but if the look on Ginny's face when Harry and I were under that Mistletoe is anything to go by, I think I know how we can make the most of what happened…"

They were interrupted at that moment by a sharp knock at her door. Upon finding her door unlocked, the person behind the door took it upon themselves to let themselves in, sticking their head around the edge of the door.

"All right there, kiddo?" said Sirius, the playfulness in his tone doing little to hide his concern. "If you happen to get yourself expelled exacting your revenge I promise not to get mad."

"No,' said Estella, casting a sidelong look at her godfather. "These sorts of things happen for a reason. Now is the time to take advantage of it."

Sirius exchanged a quizzical look with his marauding friend, relieved at the assurances he found there. The last thing he wanted was for Harry to realise feelings for someone else just as his daughter was doing the opposite.

"Oh, right then," said Sirius, moving to duck back behind the door so that he could give his daughter some one-on-one time with her godfather. With Remus absent from most all of the Order meetings she attended, he wasn't going to begrudge the pair some time together. Pausing in his motions, he stuck his head back around the door. "I don't suppose either of you have seen Kreacher lately?"

Remus shook his head, and Estella frowned.

"Come to think of it, Dad, I haven't seen him at all since I got here," said Estella.

"You haven't?" said Sirius in surprise. Being one of the only members of the family the house elf could stand, it surprised Sirius that Kreacher hadn't sought the girl out. "Have you tried calling him? I wonder why he's been upstairs, hiding from you of all people…"

"Maybe he isn't hiding?" said Estella, eyes wide. "If Dobby could leave the Malfoy's house to warn Harry, don't you think it's possible that… I mean, I haven't ordered him to stay in the house have you?"

Sirius swore colourfully, his face paling.

"He's not been able to eavesdrop on our meetings since the end of summer, thanks to you," he said, running through a mental checklist out loud; "and he can't disclose this address to anyone because of the Fidelius Charm…"

"Still, anything that's been said in the hallways outside of the meetings is fair game," said Remus, sucking in a breath. "Bellatrix or Narcissa?"

"Bellatrix," said Sirius without hesitation. "Narcissa can't call on a house elf bound to Black blood; she's not a Black." He ignored Remus' look of surprise and ran a hand through his hair. "Why couldn't I have thought of this? House elves may only be able to leave the house they are bound to if they are given clothes, but they're also supposed to follow orders without question, and he's never bloody done that for me! I should have suspected he'd be nicking off to spill our secrets…"

Ignoring Sirius' rant; the man now fully in the room and pacing wildly, Remus took charge of the situation.

"Estella, if we were to contact Dumbledore and convene a meeting of sorts, do you think you could get Kreacher to come out from wherever he is and answer our questions?" he asked, having stopped the girl from calling upon the elf moments earlier.

"It'll show Kreacher what side I'm on," she said thoughtfully, something Lucius Malfoy had said to her earlier in the term coming to mind. "Lucius Malfoy is still of the impression that I can be swayed to serve the Dark Lord. He believes that I was loyal when I was younger and have been brainwashed by you..."

"You could be endangered," said Remus, adopting Estella's line of thinking. "Lucius Malfoy would never stand for a blood-traitor in his family… and he'd soon as kill you than let the supposed blood debt remain unpaid."

"I'll have to question Kreacher by myself," she said quietly, shuddering slightly at her godfather's bluntness. "Put my Slytherin charm to work… leave it with me, I'll find out what that mangy little elf has been up to – and I'll put a stop to it."

Remembering back to the time he had nearly killed said house elf after finding him in his daughter's room, trying to dose Estella with the re-aging potion their first summer together, Sirius bristled agitatedly, wanting nothing more than to feel the crush of Kreacher's neck between his hands.

"I don't know if I feel comfortable leaving _anyone_ alone in a room with him now," he said. "I know he can't physically harm those of the bloodline he serves, but… Merlin, he could have filled the house with Portkeys and we wouldn't even know!"

Panic rippled through the threesome as they considered the consequences, but then Estella whistled in relief.

"He could well have done that, but you know the wards around this place would have prevented them from being functional," she said. "Only Portkeys created by you, as master of the house, or Dumbledore, as Secret Keeper, can work."

"What about your pendant?" Remus pointed out, curious.

"My uncle created that, yes," said Estella, "but Grimmauld Place is the destination, not the exiting point. And my uncle could create a Portkey to here not just because he's privy to the Fidelius Charm's secret, but because when I activate it, the wards recognise me as having right of entry. But this is all just supposition – there's still a chance Kreacher's just keeping to himself. Make yourselves scarce and I will reign him in before the other's get back."

* * *

Kreacher's interrogation had proven a tad more taxing that Estella had anticipated. Armed with a list of directives from the Headmaster, it became quickly apparent that the weedy little house elf had been stretching the boundaries of his blood-bond; visiting Bellatrix ever since the woman's escape from Azkaban several months earlier. With the crazed woman having had the foresight to swear the elf to secrecy, however, getting the two-timing servant to divulge details of what information had been compromised was next to impossible.

When Estella had emerged from her bedroom after a half an hour of fruitless dialogue with the reticent elf, her father had again suggested than an audience with Dumbledore might compel the belligerent elf to comply. Brazened by her subtle blend of Ravenclaw tenacity, Gryffindor stubbornness and Slytherin cunning, Estella refused to let up, confirming their suspicions to her father before heading back to the bedroom for another round with the 'incapacitated' elf. Several hours of clever thinking and resourcefulness later, and Estella had emerged from her bedroom looking decidedly smug.

"He won't be leaving the house again," she said grimly, handing over a piece of parchment about a foot long. "Thanks to the Imperturbable Charms on the pantry and boiler doors that I suggested at the start of term, it looks like he's had nothing of interest to report. You'll want to dredge up the minutes of meetings before then – make sure nothing that was discussed is still in practice. Kreacher may have admitted to disappearing several times over the past few weeks, but I reckon he just kept going back to Bellatrix because he was infatuated with her. In any event, Bellatrix hasn't been too pleased about the lack of information he's had to share – all those times you thought he'd been punishing himself, it's been her!"

As Sirius and Remus poured themselves over Estella's meticulous notes, the exhausted teen leaned against the scarred plaster of her father's bedroom wall, her mind ticking over the lengthy encounter that had wound itself up just moments earlier. It had been emotionally and physically taxing to simultaneously extract information from the canny elf whilst maintaining her applied persona around the underestimated servant.

Kreacher, in turn, had been equally dismayed and suspicious of Estella's anger, and so she had walked a fine line between expressing her disappointment at the elf's effective betrayal and letting her true allegiances be known. She had almost hit a snag when the elf had relayed to her Bellatrix's wish for them to meet; Kreacher's revelation taking her by complete surprise. Of course, in hindsight, it had made perfect sense that her father's insane cousin would want to meet the youngest heir of the bloodline and exert her influence over her half-nephew's intended suitor, but being on the crazed woman's agenda had never been something Estella had consciously considered. Having to explain to the house elf, then, why she had no inclination to accept her distant relative's invitation for a clandestine meeting was something Estella hadn't counted on having to do; but it was made infinitely easier by the physical injuries the escaped prisoner had inflicted upon the loyal elf.

"You may not appreciate my reasons for permitting my grandmother's house to be filled with… with wizards of a kind she would not have approved of, but haven't _I_ always been fair and considerate with you, Kreacher?" she had asked the reticent elf when it had appeared that he was not going to let up on the subject of his 'favourite two mistresses meeting'.

"Oh yes, Little Mistress is being very gracious to Kreacher," Kreacher had responded honestly, his bug-like eyes bulging at the implication that he had just given his beloved mistress another reason to be disappointed in him.

Upon seeing that the guilty elf looked as though he wanted to punish himself, Estella had stood firm, reminding Kreacher of an order she had given the elf over the summer, one that insisted that he not punish himself in her presence. Turning the tables even more, she had then apologised to the elf for assuming that his bruises were self-inflicted and thus failing in her duty as 'head of the line' in not controlling the sadistic urges of other family members. Kreacher was putty in her hands after that, the bewildered elf so unfamiliar with compassion that he had fallen into a quivering heap at her feet, beseeching protection from his 'mean mistress' as he poured out all of Bellatrix's secrets.

The interrogation now over, Estella was infinitely proud of her success. Not only had she maintained her favour with the fickle elf, but she had strengthened the bond between them. As much as a loyal house elf might feel compelled to punish themselves for letting their master down, they were still a living being; still prone to a measure of self-preservation… house elves of a Slytherin household particularly. The choice, then, between a mistress who abhorred violence and one who derived joy out of its deliverance was a simple one for the repentant house elf, and he had welcomed the order to ignore the elder Black woman's call.

Turning her attention to the two men before her, Estella began to shift her weight from foot to foot; altogether curious about the warring emotions playing across both man's faces as they learned of the extent of the elf's treachery.

"It'll be all right, won't it?" she said, "I mean, no one's died because of this, have they?"

"No," said Sirius considerately, looking up from the long scroll of parchment he was reading. "But on the question of punishment… his head ought to be on that wall!"

Estella frowned. Growing up practically surrounded by house elves, she was more than familiar with the codes of conduct applicable to bonded elves. As descendents of the direct line, Kreacher was obligated to honour and obey both her father and herself over the directions of an extended relative such as Bellatrix Lestrange. The problem was, neither father or daughter could quantitatively say that they had expressly forbidden the elf from either leaving the house or heeding the call of extended relatives, and he quite simply could not be punished for doing something that his masters had not expressly forbidden him to do – especially when it had been her 'compassion' that had coerced the confession they now had in front of them. Reminding her father of the situation, the Animagus groaned.

"Why does this sound familiar," he shook his head humourlessly, reminded of how his daughter had woven her way out of trouble after her shopping expedition days earlier. Rubbing at his forehead distractedly, Sirius expelled a calming breath. "All right," he said resignedly, "we can't kill him or punish him… but how can we ensure he doesn't leave the house again?"

Estella handed him another sheet of parchment, this one listing a long, thorough list of directives that she had imposed upon the elf. "Feel free to add to that," she said stiffly. "I really tore strips out of him though, and he seems to care a lot more about what I think than you. He wasn't too pleased with himself when he realised how upset I was – and he knows that I won't stand for it again."

Out of the gaze of the two men as they turned their attentions to the additional roll of parchment she had handed them, Estella grimaced. Yes, she had chastised the house elf, but 'tearing strips out of him' was a bit of a stretch. She'd yet to tell either man _how_ she had succeeded in her interrogation, and whilst she felt that Remus would understand the logic behind her actions, Estella knew that her father would never comprehend the benefits of treating an elf like Kreacher with anything less than contempt.

To be unnecessarily nice to a house elf, he would say, would blur the lines between master and servant; opening doors to questions that a reverent house elf would never take it upon themselves to ask. And indeed Kreacher had started to ask things of his young mistress; first wanting to know why she did not utilise Bellatrix to expel her father from the house of Black and rid the line of the blood traitors all together; and then pulling Estella's allegiances into question when she had turned down the woman's invitation. After reminding the misguided elf that he had no right to pose such questions, she had nevertheless humoured the repentant elf with an explanation, intent on covering all her bases. The Black family, she knew, may have been considered 'Dark' in its prime, but its proudest members bowed to no Lord. Banking on this, she reminded the elf of Regulus' death, favourably capitalising on Bellatrix's continued allegiance to the man who had killed him in a way that effectively removed the elf's fixation with the woman and transferred that level of attachment to herself. Only time would tell how Kreacher's renewed obsession with her would play itself out…

"What did you threaten him with?" said Sirius eagerly, cutting off Estella from her thoughts. It was widely known between those present in the room that it had always bothered Sirius that, although the spiteful elf was bound to serve him, he had never been able to make the elf truly repentant.

"Let's hope we'll never have to find out," Estella said darkly, absently noting that at least she had been accurate in recounting the conclusion of her discussion with the elf. "Some stains never wash off…"

"Oh, er, right then," said Remus, slightly taken aback by the look on his goddaughter's face. He could sense a fierce protectiveness radiating out of the small child, and he suddenly pitied a person – or elf – who ever chose to endanger one of her family. The wolf in him crowed in appreciation, finding kindred his cub's emerging instincts. Reeling back, the human side of Remus was almost giddy at the sensation; it was not often that his lupine form expressed itself so clearly in his human mind.

"Uncle Remus, are you all right?" said Estella, bringing him back to his senses.

"Yeah mate, you look a little pale," said Sirius, rounding on his friend. Holding up the first sheet of parchment, he attempted to soothe his friend's worries. "It doesn't look like any real damage has been done… though it's a damn good thing one of us had the brains to extend the Privacy Charms to the pantry door and such."

Remus nodded distractedly, "yes, yes, I'm fine. You did extremely well, cub. Things will have certainly have been worse if not for your input. The Order will be pleased."

Basking in the praise of two of the most important adults in her life, Estella beamed and nodded. Two days into the New Year, when Dumbledore came to visit, she answered her private summons with pride. It chuffed her to think that her father and godfather had thought so highly of her to allow her to report the findings from Kreacher's interrogation personally.

Unsurprisingly, the Headmaster was visibly relieved to learn that any information that the house elf had been able to pass on to the enemy was several months old. At the time it had struck them as strange that certain covert operations of the Order were being circumvented and attacked by Death Eaters or Ministry officials corrupted by the Dark Lord; but no serious damage had been caused. Passing on his gratitude to the resourceful girl for helping to further secure their meeting room, truly making it Imperturbable, conversation quickly moved on to other matters.

"Thank you for my book, sir," said Estella, settling back in her chair, folding a duplicated copy of Kreacher's statement and the orders she had issued him and setting it aside for her own records. "It was wise of you to mask it as a gift from my uncle."

"That's quite all right, child," said Dumbledore congenially. "Though I must confess that it has been yours by right for some time now and I should have passed it on to you much sooner."

Estella shrugged. "It's all right, I mean, I saw a copy in the library ages ago, so I could have read it all by now if I had had the time-"

"Ah, so you found that copy, did you?" said Dumbledore, smiling wistfully. His look was all together too knowing, and Estella felt compelled to go read the book cover to cover to find out if being able to find the book meant anything in particular. She'd heard of books that could only be seen by intended recipients. A variant of the notice-me-not Charm was common in keeping teenaged journals from prying eyes.

"Care to give me an abridged version, Professor, or are you still going to insist that I conduct my own research?" she said. "I know what Fawkes did sets me apart somehow… I can only guess that that book will explain it?"

The Headmaster inclined his head. "I could tell you what I know, of course, but your journey is your own," he said. "The Phoenix's intentions differ for everyone, and the book reflects that."

Now Estella was intrigued. Her eyes flicked instinctively towards the door and she began to fidget in her chair. His eyes glinting indulgently, the whimsical headmaster smiled slightly and nodded.

"Go on, child," he said dismissively, gesturing towards the door. "Go and make productive use of the rest of your holidays."

Tearing out of the headmaster's makeshift office in her father's ancestral home, Estella ran down the hallway and headed directly up to her room. Ignoring the curious calls of the house's many guests as she caught their eye as she passed, she muttered something unintelligible about doing homework and continued on her way.

"Definitely a Ravenclaw," said Ron, the Weasleys having almost crashed into the preoccupied girl as they crossed paths in the entrance hall, the sizable group having just returned from bringing Mr Weasley home from St Mungo's. "That charged up about homework? Bloody mental if you ask me…"

Beside him, Hermione looked on at the back of the retreating girl, her eyes glistening in appreciation. After enduring another half hour of the disorganised chaos around her as the returned group of teens settled into the library for an afternoon of raucous games and laughter, Hermione gathered up her things and followed in Estella's wake. When Estella had barrelled out of the master study, almost colliding with them in the entrance hall, she had muttered something about studying, and after an afternoon being outnumbered by loud redheads, the idea of settling down with a good book, surrounded by peace and quiet was highly appealing.

"What are you studying?" said Hermione casually, closing the door behind her as she let herself into the bedroom she and Ginny shared with the girl. "I do hope I am not disturbing you-"

"No, no, it's fine," said Estella resignedly, schooling her face into a neutral expression. Once she got engrossed in her reading, she really didn't like being interrupted, for it made her forget everything she just read, but the damage was done; it wouldn't pay to dwell by lashing out at the older teen. Closing the old, thick, leather-bound tome, a finger trapped between the pages to keep her place, Estella forced a smile onto her face. "The others driving you crazy? Old houses like these… the sound of screaming teenagers does tend to carry up through the un-warded vents. I take it the twins challenged Ginny to a game of Exploding Snap?"

Hermione flopped down on her bed and rummaged around the side table for her book, nodding all the while.

"And Ron and Harry are _debating_ the finer points of fair play in Chess," the older girl added pointedly. Seeing the distracted look on Estella's face, however, the bushy-haired Gryffindor frowned. "I _was_ disturbing you, wasn't I? I'm sorry, I should have knocked-"

"Hermione, this is as much my room as it is yours and Ginny's. If I wanted privacy, I can think of a dozen other places in this house that I wouldn't be found in," said Estella half-heartedly, inwardly thinking that she might have been better served hiding away in one of those said places. The bedroom reserved for her uncle when he stayed at Headquarters, for instance, would have been ideal, seeing as its occupant would not be visiting any time soon. She scowled at the thought, doubly so when she saw the apologetic look on the Gryffindor's face. "I mean it Hermione. This isn't my room, not really. Grimmauld Place may technically belong to my father, but this isn't our home."

Hermione looked as though she was considering this for a moment before nodding decisively.

"So what are you studying for, anyway? Anything I could help you with?" she asked, twisting her head to read the spine of the book Estella was holding. In the year before Estella was due to start at Hogwarts, Hermione had met the younger girl in the school's library and had taken to educating her about the Muggle world in exchange for information about a primary wizarding education. Though they had not really associated as much in recent years, it was not unusual for them to display a lingering interest in each other's academic pursuits. Taking in the title of the book, Hermione's lips thinned. "_101 Ways to Stuff a Chicken_. A cookbook, Estella? Is this part of your 'give Mrs Weasley a break' campaign?"

Hiding her shock expertly – her book must be under a charm, she realised – Estella covered seamlessly.

"Oh, yeah," she said sheepishly, making a mental note to find a real cookbook sometime soon. "No less ambitious than trying to clothe the entire population of house elves."

"Point taken," said Hermione primly, making herself comfortable on her bed and opening her Charms text.

The pair read on from their respective books, companionable in their silence. Realising that she would need to start taking notes if she had any chance of retaining the information she was reading, Estella eyed her roommate warily. Though the studious Gryffindor was too absorbed by her own reading to pay any attention to the intense grey stare currently trained on her, Estella didn't want to risk any more questions – something she knew would be coming from the overly curious fifth year if she was to suddenly start making notes.

Picking up her book, she stretched lazily and strolled casually towards the door. When, as predicted, Hermione looked up from her book and trapped her with an enquiring look, she leant against the doorframe and shrugged nonchalantly.

"I'm just going to sneak this book downstairs and verify that I have what I need," she said vaguely. She knew she wasn't being entirely honest by implying that she was going to the kitchen to check the status of the pantry, but it was not her fault that Hermione couldn't conclude that she was actually going downstairs to her uncle's room, to verify that she was who the book claimed she now was. Despite her casual, unhurried pace, she actually couldn't wait to secure some privacy; but slipping away without getting Hermione on her tail was somewhat important. It wasn't that she wanted to keep secrets, she just wanted to know more about things for herself before she opened herself up to scrutiny. It was slightly disconcerting that Dumbledore should know all this and not take it upon himself to tell anyone sooner.

Blessedly, Hermione's suspicions were not piqued by her departure, and the retreating girl met no one on her way to her uncle's lodgings on the floor below. In the time since Grimmauld Place had been made the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix, its alumni had pooled their resources to spell the house with a complex array of Wizarding Space charms, with the aim to provide each Order Member separate lodging. However, due to the restrictive nature of the wards that secured the property from detection, the house could not be expanded as much as was preferred, so most members either had shared the use of a room on a rotational basis (not all Order members were active all the time) or they lived there full time, with a roommate.

Most members had argued that as an adult, unattached wizard, Severus Snape ought to have accepted a room on a share basis, but Estella was persistent. In a campaign that her father actually approved of, her uncle was not only assured a room of his own in any house Estella was to be found in, but valid reasons why the man needed privacy were put forth and accepted by the majority. As the only potions expert and a spy to boot, the man kept odd hours and often needed space to 'wind down' from a meeting with the other side; the decision to allocate Severus Snape with his own room further assisted by the unspoken fact that no one particularly cared to share a room with him anyway. By then opening up her own bedroom to any female teenagers that should require accommodating, Estella had effectively traded her own privacy for her Uncle's, negating the argument that her uncle's needs could not be accommodated.

Muttering the password to her Uncle's room – something all the adult's rooms were protected by – Estella let herself into the musty interior and made a beeline for the man's desk. When her uncle had realised that there may become a time where the war escalated to the point where it may be safest to base himself at Grimmauld Place, he had transported furnishings from his own ancestral home to appropriately dress his room. The old roll-top desk, for instance, Estella recognised as being filched from her mother's childhood bedroom, and the cabinet that her uncle had installed to keep his private potions store was relocated from his private lab at the estate.

Making herself comfortable on the swivelling leather desk chair that had once called her maternal grandparent's library home, Estella pulled ink, quills and parchment from their various compartments in the desk, opened up her book and began to read. The book, claimed to be the most comprehensive about the magical bird, was largely concerned with breeding processes and the expected protocol when approaching a wild Phoenix. Only a handful of pages were of direct relevance to her, but the information therein was not about quantity as it was about quality. Beginning to reread the section she had just come across when Hermione had interrupted her, she paused only to attach the nib Draco had given her to the end of one of her uncle's quills before scratching away furiously at her parchment.

Once she had finished her reading, she poured herself over her notes, frowning intently at the information contained therein. If all she'd just read were true, then all domesticated Phoenixes were descendents of Merlin's Familiar, Isis, and carried with them the key to the 'Knowledge of the Ages'. It was a widely accepted fact that one of the key defining differences between bonded Phoenixes and those that had no wizard Familiar, was that their personality was retained throughout each burning and rebirth. This, as she had just learned, was because of a special bond between bird and wizard… because the Phoenix could draw upon its Familiar on Burning Days to retain not only its own personality, but also the knowledge of its ancestors, the selection of a Phoenix's Familiar was more akin to a wand's propensity to choose its best suited wizard.

After then reading how a Phoenix chose its Familiar, Estella began to appreciate why the book had been disguised. The process was identical to what she had experienced at her first Order meeting, and the subsequent revelation that a Phoenix chose its new Familiar six to eighteen months before the death of their current Familiar shocked her to the core. _This_ was why Dumbledore was in no rush to explain things to her. _This_ was why he had left it up to her to try and find this book herself… he was dying. And if his newfound interest in making sure she read the book over the Christmas holidays was any indicator, Estella could only assume that it would be _soon_.

Her hands gripping the edges of her parchment, Estella expelled a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding. Questions swam around her mind dizzyingly, and an overriding feeling of violation rippled through her; she'd not asked for this.

"Fawkes!" she called out. Though it had been her intention to call the bird to her, it still surprised her when the avian flashed into the room through a wall of magical flame.

Staring at the almost empathic creature, Estella almost found herself swept up by an innate feeling of peace and acceptance.

"No!" she protested, breaking eye contact. "I'm not just going to roll over and accept this! I want answers!"

Fawkes considered her for a moment before cocking his head to the side, as though bemused. Seeing this, Estella glared at the bird who was silently mocking her. Finding a measure of satisfaction in tearing off a strip of parchment from the bottom of the page she was working with, she scribbled a short note to the Headmaster, the nib pressing so hard against the page that it almost tore through. Folding her message over roughly, without waiting for the ink to dry, Estella stood and thrust the note out towards the bird.

"Take this to Dumbledore," she said, giving the phoenix an accusing look. Once the bird had flashed out of sight, Estella flopped down on her uncle's bed and flung out her arms on either side of her. "Why me?" she asked the ceiling.

No sooner had Estella pulled herself out of her funk, sitting up and rubbing at her face agitatedly, did the great bird return. Accepting the tidy little scroll from the offered talon, Estella broke the wax seal and unravelled the headmaster's return message.

_Do not discuss this with anyone. I will explain when we next meet. Fawkes will remain with you as long as you require. _

_Enjoy the remainder of your Christmas holiday._

"What?" Estella growled at the parchment, repeating her question when she looked up at the Phoenix. "He just expects me to sit here like a mindless drone and _enjoy the remainder of my Christmas holiday_? Was he dropped on his head as a baby? He's losing his Gobstones…"

Estella continued on her rant, the steam slowing issuing out of her as she vented her frustrations. Before she knew it, Fawkes was sitting beside on her on the bed, crooning to her softly whilst she mindlessly petted the magnificent bird's downy plume.

"Don't think I don't know what you're doing, bird," she said resignedly. "I'm still mad, you know. Don't think you can just hum a tune and I would forget that!"

Fawkes cawed smugly, prodding at Estella's hand with his head to try and get her back on task. Relenting, Estella resumed her hypnotic petting of the indulgent bird, finding herself becoming inexplicably at ease with the situation.

'_What's done, is done,_' she admitted to herself, vowing to stop dwelling on that which could not be changed, instead concentrating on finding ways to use this to her advantage.

'_It's a pity that most all other books on phoenixes dispel all this as a myth_,' she grumbled inwardly, her thoughts again drifting to the answers she could only assume that the headmaster would be able to provide. As her mind began to wander, she began to wonder how the headmaster would grant Fawkes his leave to stay with her 'as long as she required'. In the last paragraph of the chapter she had been reading, the author had stated two things: one, that a Phoenix never let its new Familiar be known until that witch or wizard was capable of 'protecting themselves'; and two, owners of Phoenixes made a point of scattering themselves around the world and ensuring that no two bonded witches or wizards were in 'known close proximity' to each other.

Flicking through the rest of the book, there had been a passing reference to a ritual – involving all of the descendents of Isis and their human Familiars – that could invoke the 'Knowledge of the Ages' into conscious thought, channelling all that power into a chosen third party 'deemed worthy'. Picturing Voldemort capturing all the Phoenixes and their owners and coercing them into providing him with all that power, Estella understood the need for secrecy, and was eternally grateful that history had come to regard the phenomenon as myth.

"I bet you were bonded to a Phoenix," said Estella aloud, closing the book and running her fingers over the embossed woven lettering of the author's name. "I bet you wrote this book and then deposited copies only where people like me and Dumbledore could find them…"

Taken by the realisation that she had just consciously placed herself in the same esteem as her headmaster, Estella blinked. Turning to her Phoenix, unaware of the moment when she had first began to think of the bird in that way, she mused.

"I don't think I'll ever really understand why you picked me… I don't hold a candle to Dumbledore!" she said, not so much self-effacingly than stating established fact. Albus Dumbledore was one of the most powerful, influential wizards in the living world, and never in her wildest dreams would she ever become as strong. "Skunk's going to get jealous if you stick around, you know… and I already have an owl that I've next to no need to use! Just what am I supposed to tell everyone, anyway? They're going to want to know the reason why you're suddenly around me."

As though in response, Fawkes vanished from sight, leaving Estella 'alone' in the room just as someone knocked on the other side of the door.

"That's if anyone actually _sees_ you," she muttered, "right."

"Estella, are you in there?" her father's voice sounded rattled, broken up by the urgent pounding of his fist on the door.

"Uh, yeah?" she called out cautiously, approaching the door.

"Open the door?" her father asked, relief imminent in his tone.

Mumbling her assent, Estella opened the door and was greeted by the visage of her father looking torn between concern and anger.

"Everyone's been looking for you for nearly an hour!" said Sirius exasperatedly, pulling his daughter into his arms. "Did you not hear?"

"No, I must have gotten really caught up in my reading," said Estella distractedly, tilting her head back towards the desk. "I'm sorry, I didn't think anyone would notice…"

"Of _course_ I would notice!" said Sirius, gripping his daughter firmly by the shoulders and giving her a little shake. "You missed dinner… I've been worried sick."

"Dad, I really didn't mean to read through dinner, but wherever else did you think I'd gotten to?" said Estella, unable to believe that so much time had passed. "It's not like anyone can leave the house without you knowing about it!"

"I don't know," said Sirius, running a hand over his weary face. "I just didn't think of looking here – I didn't know you had the password."

"Of course I have the password. He's my uncle!" said Estella, holding her chin up high. "And before you ask, I didn't tell you that I knew, because I knew that if you knew that I knew you wouldn't let up about finding out the password for yourself so you could nosey on about."

At his daughter's pointed look, Sirius stopped his eyes from wandering beyond his daughter's shoulders and had the good graces to look sheepish.

"Just what were _you_ doing in here, anyway?" he asked, deflecting attention away from his own missed opportunities. "Hermione said that you'd gone down to the kitchen with a cookbook. It's not like you to lie, kiddo. What's going on?"

"I didn't lie!" said Estella, crossing her arms across her chest. "I resent that! All I said to Hermione was that I was going _downstairs_ with my book. It's not my problem that she thought I was reading a cookbook. I'm not the one who Charmed it to look different!"

"What are you doing reading a disguised book?" said Sirius, his eyes narrowing. "Where did you get it?"

"The headmaster gave it to me for Christmas," she said. At her father's pointed look, she elaborated, "he disguised it as a gift from my uncle because he didn't want to be seen giving to one, but not to all. You didn't really suppose that my uncle would pass on the opportunity to exchange gifts with me in person? He's _always_ given me my gifts personally."

"But I haven't, is that what you're saying?" said Sirius sullenly, his daughter's affirmation touching on one of his sore points – the nature of the closeness between his daughter and her uncle; the history he had been denied.

Estella looked abashed. "I didn't say that!" she said, "I didn't even intend to _imply_ that! I was just stating a fact! As for the book, surely you trust the headmaster to not give me anything that would be harmful… if you must know, it's a book about phoenixes."

Sirius nodded hesitantly. "Does this have something to do with what Fawkes did at your first meeting?" he said.

Estella smirked, and she nodded. "Yep, and to think Mum wrote that you were a few Quaffles short of a Quidditch match," she grinned. Dumbledore may have directed her to not discuss the situation with anyone, but her father wasn't _anyone_. "Were you holding back, or did you just get smarter with age?"

"Oh, almost everyone paled in the shadow of your mother's brilliance," Sirius recounted fondly, before nudging his daughter playfully. "I dare say her daughter has had a good influence over me, too."

"Mmm, yes," said Estella in mock seriousness. "It's a good thing she didn't turn out to be her father's daughter then. Regression is not a good thing."

Pulling his daughter into a headlock, Sirius ruffled Estella's hair and chuckled, all the while trying to see past his child and into the room behind her. When she instead prepared to step out of the threshold and close the door behind her, he pouted.

"Not even one look?" he asked, sticking out his bottom lip and craning his neck over the top of his daughter's head. "C'mon, be a sport! It's _my_ house!"

"No!" said Estella, shoving her father playfully in the chest, pushing him out of her way. "Not only does my uncle have ways of detecting who has been in amongst his things, but being Master of this household does not give you the right to let yourself into the private rooms of those you have given lodgings to. My uncle may not be here, but I have an open invitation."

"You could have stowed away in _my_ room if you wanted a bit of peace and quiet," said Sirius, bristling slightly as his insecurities settled once more. Examining his daughter's expression closely, his eyes widened as he realised something. "You miss him, don't you?"

Lowering her head, Estella sighed. "Yes. Yes I do," she said quietly. When her eyes met her father's once more, they were clouded with conflict. "No one here seems to understand how I could possibly miss him, because he's everybody's most-hated teacher… but, but he's my _uncle_."

Wrapping his arms around his daughter's shoulders – she could fetch her notes from her uncle's rooms later – Sirius led her down the hall. "His birthday's coming up next week, isn't it?"

"The ninth," said Estella, halting in her step and looking up at her father expectantly, altogether surprised that her father was actually aware of that fact. "You wouldn't… I mean, would you… could I…"

"-Head back to the school to spend the last week of the holidays with your uncle?" finished Sirius, looking down fondly at his daughter. Tightening his hold around her shoulders, he squeezed her encouragingly and smiled. "I would think that's only fair, wouldn't you?"

"You really wouldn't mind?" said Estella, eyes lighting up.

"Well, you can always Portkey back and forth," he suggested thoughtfully. "I am sure Albus is still capable of overseeing that without Dolly dearest catching on… and perhaps it would do us some good for that woman to see you in your uncle's care over the holidays." He paused, "but then again, perhaps it's not good idea – I don't want you going anywhere near Lucius Malfoy-"

"-and if Umbridge passes on to him that I am 'out of hospital' and back with my uncle, he will likely request a visit that my uncle will be hard pressed to refuse…" said Estella, frowning.

"Don't worry, kiddo," said Sirius. "We'll figure something out. Maybe you'll just have to make sure Umbridge doesn't see that you're back. Would being confined to your uncle's quarters be a problem?"

"Nope," said Estella, smiling breezily. "It'd be great to spend a week with him – it's been so long since it was just the two of us."

Sirius looked rather disconcerted, and he stiffened slightly. "Yes, well," he said awkwardly. "Just so long as you don't have any designs to make that permanent…"

Whacking her dad on the arm with the book she held in her hand, Estella shook her head in amusement. "My home is here with you, and Moony, and Harry," she said. "And I have respite with my Uncle Sev – a perfect balance!"

"Well, I'm glad that we all could accommodate to your needs," said Sirius wryly, poking his daughter in the ribs. "Heaven forbid what may happen if you do not get the 'perfect balance'."

* * *

Harry stood in the open doorway and cleared his throat a second time. Knocking on the door frame had also failed to get a result, and it wasn't until he stopped and really listened that he could hear it: the faint, tell-tale thrum of music… Estella was listening to her walkman. Feeling only slightly guilty for what he was about to do, Harry rubbed his hands together and entered the room, intent on sneaking up on the preoccupied girl. Strictly speaking, he wasn't doing anything wrong; they'd long since established an open door, open invitation policy, but if Estella wasn't departing for Hogwarts later that evening, he knew he'd think twice before giving her a fright.

"What can I do for you, Harry?" said Estella suddenly, not looking up from her desk.

Harry jumped, Estella's voice cutting through the silence catching him unawares… nothing in her body language had indicated that she'd become aware of his arrival.

"How did you know it was me?" he asked dumbly, closing the distance between them and turning to lean against the edge of the desk Estella sat in front of.

Estella put down her quill and pushed her chair out from the desk so that she wouldn't have to crane her neck to look up at the standing boy.

"You're the only person in this house whose shadow reflects lights," she said, gesturing towards his glasses. "So where are the others?"

"Huh?" said Harry distractedly; when he'd snuck away to see Estella, he hadn't expected to be talking about the other teenagers. "Oh, they're er, in the drawing room playing _Clue_. The twins are looking to adapt a wizarding version…"

"Good idea," said Estella, nodding. Leaning forward, she reached behind Harry to grab her pre-addressed envelopes and busied herself stuffing them with the Thank You cards she had been filling out when Harry arrived. "So why aren't you playing?"

His eyes drawn to the shiny silver nib at the end of Estella's quill, Harry picked up the feather and avoided her gaze. "Can't a guy come and visit with a friend before they leave?" he muttered, examining the quill closely for lack of anything else to fixate on.

Estella put down the envelope she had just folded closed and motioned for Harry to pass her a purple wax stick. Pausing to melt the end of the wax with her wand, she dripped some on the thick, creamy parchment and stamped it with the Black coat of arms before responding. "A _friend_?" she said with a measure of distaste, an eyebrow raised. Raising the envelope up to her face and blowing on it to dry the wax seal, she looked up at Harry. "Is that all I am to you – a _friend_?"

Harry gesticulated widely with the quill in his hand. "You know what I mean!" he said exasperatedly. Ever since Christmas night, when he and Estella had found themselves stuck under the Weasley twins' cursed Mistletoe, things between the pair had become somewhat awkward. For while the teens were resolved to maintaining a platonic relationship, the memory of their kiss – the coveted 'first' for both – haunted them; particularly whenever they were alone together. Catching Estella's eye and blushing as he was reminded of the expression therein whilst they were both intoxicated by the Weasley's Lust Dust, he looked back down at the quill in his hand. "What sort of quill is this? I haven't seen it before-"

Estella sniggered. "Trust the _Seeker_ to be drawn to small, shiny pieces of stationery," she said, relaxing slightly. "I would not normally peg a guy for being so observant, but for your piece of mind I haven't really used this nib around people… I keep it amongst my private supply in my trunk because I wouldn't want to lose it in class, or in the library…"

"What, is it expensive or something?" said Harry, pulling the precious metal from the feather and holding it up to the light.

"I wouldn't know," said Estella with a shrug. "Draco gave it to me-"

"What?" Harry blurted, dropping the offending nib in shock. It fell to the floor with a slight tinkle.

"Harry!" Estella scowled in horror, both admonishing him for dropping the writing tool so carelessly and reacting so childishly. Sliding from her soft leather desk chair, she fell to her knees and began clawing around for the silver tip. "Blast! It's wedged between the floorboards! I can't believe you, Harry – dropping silver so carelessly! What if Moony comes walking in here barefoot and I can't get it out?"

Sighing heavily, Harry joined Estella on the floor and, kneeling shoulder to shoulder, he snatched her hands away from where they were clawing at a knot in the wood grain. "Stop that! You'll give yourself a splinter!" he begged her.

Estella fought against Harry's hold on her wrists but it was no use. "We have to get it out!" she said in a panicked voice. "I can't just leave silver lying around-"

Releasing her wrists only to secure a grip higher up her arms, Harry pulled her up gently and shook her.

"Estella, calm down!" Harry whispered firmly, increasingly worried at how something so minor had set the girl off. "We'll get Padfoot to summon it if we have to – it will be okay, we'll get it out!"

Blinking slowly as Harry's words sunk in, Estella frowned and, shaking her head dismissively, she pulled out her wand and summoned the nib out of the wood. Ignoring Harry's questioning look, she swiftly pocketed the ornately crafted metal before it could spark any more fires, pulled herself up and slumped back down in her chair.

"Sorry… I over reacted, didn't I?" she said sheepishly, altogether confused why she didn't just think of summoning the nib herself in the first place. She ran a hand over her face, opening her mouth to speak, but words failed her.

Rubbing his hands on his thighs nervously, Harry hesitated before rising and perching himself on the edge of the desk, beside Estella. "It was more than just dropping silver, wasn't it?" said Harry, his brow furrowed. Reaching out to pat her shoulder, he thought better of it and retracted his hand awkwardly. "Look, I'm sorry for freaking out… it's not really my business if you want to accept gifts from Malfoy. I was just surprised, is all…"

"I know," sighed Estella. "I would be surprised if you hadn't reacted that way…" she took a deep breath and looked Harry in the eye. "I'm just… oh Harry, it's just so confusing!"

"You too, huh?" Harry averted his eyes and chuckled nervously.

"It doesn't change things… I mean, it won't… it shouldn't…" Estella rambled hopelessly.

"But it feels different?" said Harry knowingly.

Estella shifted in her chair and ran a hand through her hair in frustration.

"Where do we stand with each other now?" she asked, her voice short. "I mean _really_ stand? I mean, we agreed straight off that the… the… _kiss_… we agreed that it meant nothing; but you just called me a 'friend'…"

"Well you _are_ a friend," said Harry, not quite understanding the irreverence of his words. "You have been since my first year, what do you want me to say?"

"Oh I don't know, that I am somehow different to Ron and Hermione?" said Estella snappishly. "That we are family?"

"You _are_ family," said Harry quickly, a quizzical expression on his face. "But I guess I hesitate at comparing you in any way to the Dursleys; so you should consider 'a friend' a compliment. And now I'm thinking that maybe it's a good thing we don't share blood because you'd have to be pretty dense not to know that-"

"Oi! Prat!" Estella swatted at Harry playfully, her earlier derision all but forgotten. "Says he who can't see past the end of his nose…"

"What do you mean by that?" asked Harry self-consciously, his glasses choosing that moment to slip down his nose.

Harry, however, was denied a response as a flurry of movement behind them heralded the entrance of one of Estella's roommates.

"Well speak of the devil," Estella muttered under her breath, a smile playing at her lips as she turned to see a certain redhead making a beeline towards a trunk in the far corner of the room. Raising her voice to address the preoccupied fourth year, Estella nudged Harry pointedly. "Hey Ginny, were your ears burning?"

Ginny looked up from her trunk, barely having realised that she'd walked into an occupied room, and looked between the two dark-haired teens in confusion. Whilst her ears may not have been burning at that moment, those of a particular bespectacled teen most certainly were.

"Not a word," whispered Harry, turning his head away from Ginny as the girl busied herself looking for a book to glare at Estella. The smug-looking Ravenclaw, in turn, grinned teasingly before nodding. With a few more Thank You cards to send out and a trunk to pack before dinner, Estella made a note to play match-maker another day.

* * *

Enjoying the covert company of Fawkes had proven to have its benefits. Secure 'instant messaging' between herself and the headmaster had kept her abridged on her uncle's situation without drawing any light to the fact that she was actually checking up on him. The man had not stayed after Estella had submitted the findings of her 'discussion' with Kreacher, and besides spending Christmas with the Malfoys, had purportedly been holed up in his quarters, conducting 'research'. If she did indeed wish to visit with the man before the new term commenced, and did not want anyone to know of her presence, the coming week really was the optimum time. Having both a Christmas present _and_ birthday present to account for, Estella was committed to ensuring that her early return to the school would remain a surprise, her arrival scheduled for a little after midnight that night… the day before her uncle's birthday.

Joining the rest of the household for a hearty Weasley feed, Estella saved her goodbyes until after the evening meal.

"Have you got everything, kiddo?" said Sirius, his outer cheerfulness belying the turbulence within. As much as he appreciated that it was difficult for his brother-in-law to truly spend time with Estella whilst limited by his teaching duties, there was a resoundingly loud voice in his mind that reminded him that the man his daughter was cutting short their own time together for, got to at least set eyes upon her every day during term.

"Yes, Dad," said Estella, rolling her eyes. Closing the lid of her trunk, she sat on it so that her father could latch it. "And if I don't, there's always the Order meeting at the end of the month."

Sirius nodded mutely, and exchanged a look with his best friend, who was pushing off from the door frame to assist Estella with her book bag. Remus, he supposed, was feeling the imminent separation much harder than he was; for whilst he knew that it would barely be two weeks before he saw his daughter again, Remus was scheduled to return undercover at the end of the week, and there was no telling when the werewolf would see them again.

"I'll miss you, cub," Sirius heard his friend say in a quiet, hoarse voice, the man's hand resting heavily on his daughter's shoulder in acknowledgement.

Estella lowered the handle of the trunk that Sirius was assisting her carry and looked up at her godfather with wide eyes. Flinging her arms around him, she hugged him tightly and sighed into his robes.

"I can come back after his birthday, if you want," she offered. "Then go back with the others next week -"

"No, no, it's all right," said Remus, though one look in the man's eyes and it would be obvious that he wanted nothing more than to keep the girl in his arms forever. "I know how much you miss the quiet time alone with your uncle. You would only be shouldering additional risk, moving back and forth between the school when Umbridge is under the impression that you're in St Mungo's."

"It'd be worth the risk," said Estella thoughtfully, resting her chin on her godfather's chest and looking up at him. "Not that it'd be much of a risk though, not against a near-squib with the I.Q of a ferret on a highway."

"Where _do_ you come up with such vivid imagery?" said Remus, amused. "I don't doubt you, of course, but it can only be a mistake to underestimate our foes, mmm?"

"Yeah, humour the old man," quipped Sirius, deftly picking up the dark ball of fur that sometimes resembled his daughter's Kneazle. "He's lost the edge in his old age."

As predicted, Remus' wand was out in an instant, the nimble-fingered werewolf growling slightly and glaring at Sirius' cheek. The grim Animagus smiled innocently and motioned towards the sleepy Kneazle in his hands.

"You wouldn't hex a man taking care of an animal, would you?" he said sweetly, his grin widening when Remus' wand faltered.

Having wisely side-stepped the line of fire the instant her father had made his earlier statement, Estella watched the interplay with amusement.

"You know," she said, turning to her father. "Some would say that sharing your body with a werewolf would mean that you're always taking care of an animal; and yet you never hesitate to hex him!"

Now it was Remus' turn to grin wolfishly.

"And using a poor, defenceless Kneazle as a human shield," said Remus, tutting softly and shaking his head, his wand raised once more. "For shame, Mr Padfoot, for shame…"

"Is that a hint of a challenge there, Mr Moony?" said Sirius, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he handed Skunk over to his daughter and drew his own wand.

Before either of them could start hurtling playful hexes at each other, Estella had drawn her own wand and, unnoticed by the other occupants of the room, sent a pair of silent disarming spells in their directions. When they suddenly found their wands flying into Estella's outstretched hand, Skunk having climbed over her shoulder and settled in the hood of her cloak, the furry creature's head peeking over her shoulder, nearly camouflaged by Estella's hair, they looked over at the girl in a mix of awe and confusion.

"Not in _my_ room, you don't," she said firmly. "Not when Ginny's Pygmy Puff, and Crookshanks are in the vicinity… and most certainly not when Hermione has left her homework out. We'd never hear the end of it…"

At that, Estella tucked the adult's wands into an inside pocket of her robes and, using her own wand, levitated her trunk and headed out the door.

"If you promise to keep the books intact, I will give you your wands back," she informed them, as they wordlessly began to follow her down the hall. They had all but given up trying to enforce upon the girl the inappropriateness of using magic out of school while she was under-aged, but they had to give her credit for not flaunting the loophole in front of the other teenagers.

Reaching the top of the staircase, she lowered her trunk and held out the two wands.

"Now play nice," she said, handing them both their wand in turn. Seeing the incredulous looks on their faces, Estella rolled her eyes. "Honestly, sometimes I forget just who is the adult and who is the child, here!"

Looking at each other in silent understanding, the two Marauders could not help but secretly agree. An uneventful journey downstairs and another round of goodbyes later, Estella left the teenaged occupants of Grimmauld Place to their rowdy game of Exploding Snap and prepared to leave. After once again seeing that his child had everything, Sirius clamped a hand on either shoulder and commanded her eye contact; without having to say a word, he conveyed his message to his daughter.

"I know, I know," said Estella plaintively. "If I value your life, no wearing clothes my uncle will see as inappropriate… and no breaking school rules unless there's no chance of me getting caught."

Sirius gave his daughter a strange look, to which Estella grinned sheepishly.

"All right, so I may have embellished a little," she admitted.

Giving his daughter a scrutinising look, Sirius considered his options for a moment, and then, after sharing a glance with his werewolf friend, he nodded.

"All right," he said slowly. "I'll trust your judgement… but I want to know what you're up to, okay? No consequences attached, I just want to stay informed."

"Keep score, you mean," said Estella coyly, shaking her head. "No need, I've no desire to ascend to the Marauder's ranks."

The two men gave her an amused look, their eyes tinged with disbelief, but said nothing as they shrunk her things and handed them to her so that she could stuff them into pockets of her robe. Upon seeing that she was ready, and confirming that she had no more goodbyes left to give, Sirius indicated for her to get out her Portkey. Dipping into the topmost pocket of her robes, Estella extracted an innocuous looking red feather and nodded faintly. All of a sudden, Fawkes flashed into being, landing precisely on Estella's shoulder; before either man could react, the majestic bird let out a solitary note and vaporised in a ball of flame, taking Estella along for the ride.

Blinking in their shock, the two men looked at each other in disbelief, both having taken an involuntary step back.

"Well that was…" said Remus, breathlessly.

"-unexpected," said Sirius, mouth agape.

"I was going to say, 'disconcerting'," said Remus distractedly, his eyes still fixed upon the spot on the floor where his goddaughter had just been standing a moment earlier. Subconsciously, he was trying to make out the outline of a scorch mark that wasn't to be found.

"That too," said Sirius, shivering slightly.

Coming to his senses, Remus rubbed a hand over day-old-stubble and looked to his friend.

"I guess Albus didn't want to take chances with a Portkey when the Ministry are keeping such a close eye on the school," he said, nodding as though accepting his own theory. "Either that, or she's inherited your love for theatrics…"

* * *

"Thank you, Fawkes," said Estella as she opened her eyes and found herself in a desolate area of the Forbidden Forest. She had known, when she had first come in contact with the bird, that his intentions were to whisk her away to her secret room within the castle; but having evidently shared with Fawkes her passing wish to harvest some special herbs for her uncle for his birthday that coming morning, the phoenix had delivered her to a place where all that she needed was in abundant supply.

Realising the dangers of being alone in such a uncharted area of the wild forest so late at night, Estella busied herself extracting various petals, roots and leaves and seed pods; carefully separating them into the various pockets of her cloak and robes. Unfortunately for Estella, her continued presence in one area drew the attention of one of the Forest's more unsavoury guests. So caught up in her methodical pruning and harvesting of ingredients was Estella that she failed to hear the tell-tale approach of her hunter, remaining unaware of the threat's presence until it had successfully pinned her down to the forest floor.

"Where did you spring from so suddenly?" a deep, tauntingly melodic voice growled into her face before taking a deep breath through its nose. "Did you let go of your Portkey too soon? Tsk, tsk…"

Recovering from the shock that had frozen her solid, Estella began to struggle in earnest, but she was no match to the sheer bulk of her captor. Pushing and fighting against the animal-like hands that tore at her clothes, methodically emptying her pockets of their bounty, Estella's eyes widened in horror when the beast – she could not call him a man – began to actively inhale her scent.

"You think you're a smart little cub, do you?" he growled, grabbing a handful of her hair and pulling her head back, so as to expose her neck; "trying to cover your scent with herbs and flowers?" he inhaled sharply, lupine-like eyes betraying surprise "Wait… what's this I smell? Your scent is imprinted with the flavour of my brethren… and… yet…" – dirty long nails raked along the spot where neck meets shoulder – "you are not one of us…"

Estella's mind was reeling, her mind heady with adrenalin and fear. Though it was not yet the full moon, Estella could tell that she was dealing with a werewolf; but as much as she tried she could not make sense of what he was saying to her. It wouldn't surprise her if her godfather's scent could be detected, but the man-beast didn't seem to be talking about any sort of lingering, third-party scent. Not giving up on her struggles, Estella was suddenly filled with a sense of fear… not for herself, but for her godfather. All her life she had taken for granted that all werewolves were much like the man who had played such a large role in her life: a little 'furry problem' for a few nights each month, but otherwise entirely human and able to function in society. The afflicted man before her looked to live in the forest full time, on the hunt even in his 'human' form. Thinking of the amount of prejudice normally afforded to werewolves by a majority of the wizarding public, Estella began to wonder if this was the reason.

"Tell me, fledgling…" the half-beast had loosened his hold on her – not enough for her to break free, but just enough to stop bruising her with his grip. "What is your name? Who is your alpha? You are a peculiar one… I think… I think I shall grant you a choice."

"A choice?" said Estella, raising a brow. That the man was promising her a choice, and yet giving her no freedom of movement highlighted to her that he was merely toying with her. The contents of her pockets strewn around her, her heart leap when she saw the glint of silver. Staring at it in abstract confusion, it took her a moment to recall just how the nib Draco had given her had ended up discarded in her pocket, and not kept in its case in her trunk. Remembering the encounter she'd had with Harry before dinner, she thanked the stars and proceeded to distract the man; "I don't believe you."

"Oh and she's smart, too…" cooed the werewolf, sticking out his tongue and running it up her cheek before inhaling again sharply; "and tasty."

Absurdly, Estella's mind was filled with images from the Muggle children's pantomime, _Little Red Riding Hood_, and she caught herself thinking of how ironic her current situation would have been had she decided to wear her red cloak. When the rangy man had leant over her, his hold on her had loosened to the point where she was able to get a hand free. Stretching her fingers tautly, she was just able to flick the tiny speck of silver towards her and pinch it between her fingers…

The werewolf let out an almighty scream as Estella dragged her nails up the man's cheek, the pointed tip of the silver nib burning his skin as it scratched across his cheek until she forced it directly into his eye. Leaping up, the man-beast clawed at his face as his eye began to burn, a disturbing sizzling sound and whiff of smoke buzzing around his head as he tried to gouge out the blinded organ.

"You wench! My eye! Silver!" the man yelled.

Seizing the opportunity, Estella pulled herself back by her hands and feet, staying low to the ground to avoid the monster's flailing arms, and beckoned for Fawkes. But while the Phoenix could make itself flame into the vicinity in the blink of an eye, it was still just a bird, and just as susceptible to attack.

"FAWKES, LOOK OUT!" Estella screamed as the majestic bird came between her and her pursuer, who had recovered enough to zero in on her with his remaining eye and swipe at the blur of red that had come between himself and his prey.

**End Chapter**

**A/N: Evil, me? The next chapter will hopefully be up at some point during the weekend of the 16th. My brother's 21st is coming up soon though and I may have his party to go to that weekend, so if it stops me from updating I will let you know. **


	20. Flying Suspicions

Disclaimer: Anything recognisable (and there'll probably be a bit of that in this chapter) belongs to either OotP or HBP and their author, without whose inspiration I wouldn't even be here writing said disclaimer.

**Updated: Friday 16 June 2006**

**Chapter Twenty: Flying Suspicions **

When she awoke the next morning, in a makeshift bed of floor cushions in the centre of her Keep (the room being entirely too cluttered to fit a traditional four-poster), Estella was surprised to find several jars of methodically sorted and stored Potions Ingredients. Recognising the samples as the very same clippings she had been painstakingly collecting during her ill-fated detour in the forest overnight, she felt decidedly sheepish. Her memories of what had happened in the moments after the man had lunged at Fawkes were scrambled with the tell-tale signs of shock and fatigue. She vaguely remembered shrieking in terror as the bird had lifted her by his talons and flown her across the forest, reawakening her fear of flying; her half-blinded pursuer having been repelled from the great bird by an unseen force. How she then got from the school grounds to the secret room in the heart of the castle, Estella could only guess, but if the neat emerald ink on the labels adorning the jars was anything to go by, the headmaster was well informed.

Deciding, then, that thanking Dumbledore for the recovered ingredients would be a good cover for seeing the man before breakfast, she threw on a fresh set of robes and used the Keep's fireplace to Floo directly to the man's office.

Tumbling out onto the hearth, Estella rose and dusted herself off to the sight of Dumbledore seated in an armchair, still wearing his night-robes, with his socked feet elevated on a cushioned foot stool. Staring incredulously at the pair of odd socks, Estella was further astonished to see evidence of a toe sticking through the seams. She gave the man a look of disbelief.

"Okay, okay, I'll get you some socks next Christmas, I swear!" she said, throwing her arms up in defeat and depositing herself in a neighbouring chair. Turning serious, she levelled her eyes at the man knowingly and frowned. "That is, of course, if you live that long!"

"Ah, I had a feeling you would be coming to speak to me about that before long," said Albus, reaching into his robes and pulling out a bag of lemon drops. "Lemon drop?"

Slightly amazed, but not at all surprised, by the implication that the old man took a bag of the sweets to bed with him, Estella declined politely and returned their attentions to the matters at hand.

"Six to eighteen months, headmaster?" she said quietly, aghast at the revelation that the man before her was on borrowed time.

"Yes, rather good innings, in all, wouldn't you say?" the headmaster said conversationally, cheerily popping a Lemon Drop into his mouth.

Estella's mouth went askew.

"You're not at all disturbed by the fact that the ink is drying on your death warrant?" said Estella, astonished.

"Death is but the next adventure," said Dumbledore, equally nonplussed. Seeing that his nonchalance was not having an effect on the child, he levelled his eyes at her. "I assure you, child, that my only inconvenience is ensuring that those of you left behind to fight this war are well equipped to do so."

"Does this have anything to do with why you asked me to call you Albus earlier in the term?" said Estella suddenly.

The headmaster nodded sadly. "I have every faith that you will grow into a remarkable witch, Estella Black, and a formidable, if not brilliant strategist," the headmaster smiled at the effect his praise was having on the bewildered child. "Was it too much for an old man to be on equal terms with that potential, just once?"

"You have been trying to fit in another life's worth of living, haven't you, sir?" said Estella in understanding. "By encouraging informalities with students you respect you have been envisioning the time when we are graduated and free to address you accordingly…" – at the headmaster's silent nod, Estella sighed – "…I'm sorry, but I just can't do that. It would be too weird. You could be wrong about me, after all – I might turn out to be a lot different."

Disregarding the girl's self-effacing lack of faith in her potential, Albus Dumbledore steered the conversation towards the more pressing areas that needed addressing.

"You understand that you cannot tell anyone about… about my life expectancy," he said, almost apologetically.

Taking a moment to think on the gravity of the situation, Estella nodded sombrely.

"Do you… do you know how it will happen, sir?" she asked awkwardly. The elder wizard shook his head, and Estella let out a breath she didn't realised she'd been holding.

"Nor do I know, precisely, when," elaborated Dumbledore, giving his young audience a sympathetic look, for he knew that Estella, as Fawkes' intended Familiar, faced the same fate one day. As if by an afterthought, he smiled encouragingly and continued; "it is entirely unusual for a wizard to witness the moment in which their replacement is chosen."

"I couldn't possibly _replace_ you, sir," said Estella, blushing.

"Perhaps that was a poor choice of wording," said Dumbledore in understanding. "Though as far as Fawkes is concerned…"

"Sir, what does it all mean?" she blurted suddenly, the shock of her near-attack wearing off and removing the thin veneer of cotton wool in her mind that had been keeping the flood of questions at bay.

"In an everyday sense," said Dumbledore, pausing thoughtfully; "absolutely nothing." He continued to explain; "just so long as the phenomenon remains a myth, and you do not cross paths with another Phoenix and his keeper, I suspect that it will hold little to no bearing on your life… except for the fact that you will find yourself with a little winged friend."

"Sir, you say I should avoid other… other people like us as though they would pose a threat. I thought that the proximity of such wizards would only be a problem if an evil git like Voldemort was aware of the pieces of the puzzle we all hold and -"

Here, Dumbledore cut her off, his hand raised.

"While that is a true threat, it is the most improbable," said Dumbledore, going on to explain how even if all the Phoenixes and their Familiars got together, none of them could possibly know the process in which to invoke the 'Knowledge of the Ages'. "No," he explained, "you will be under more threat from those which have been corrupted by power. While a Phoenix is most drawn to those who are pure of heart, often choosing his Familiar while they are still young, the course of years can both change perspectives and alter the course of the best intentions. I myself was not always this way, you know…"

"And what way would that be, headmaster?" said Estella curiously. The old man said nothing, an aged weariness settling itself on his features as he lost himself in thought. It suddenly occurred to Estella how decades of expectations, war and losses could shape a person and isolate them from, perhaps, the most important things. Nodding in understanding, she leant back in her chair and waited for the headmaster to speak of his own volition.

"I must confess, that I had almost expected it to be Harry," said the headmaster distractedly.

"Right," nodded Estella, "the whole assistance thing in the Chamber of Secrets…"

"Yes," the headmaster confirmed, his eyes seeking her out, and then maintaining their contact; "but then the events of the Third Task unravelled, and Fawkes healed you… and I suspected from that point on, that it was only a matter of time."

"That explains a lot," said Estella quietly, casting her mind back to how the headmaster's behaviour towards her had began to change since the Third Task. "So what now?"

"Now," said Dumbledore, nodding towards the clock; "I do believe it is time for your uncle to be waking to his breakfast."

Eyes widening in alarm, Estella apologised profusely and excused herself hurriedly, intending to rush back into the Keep to find her uncle's gift and better present herself to surprise him in his office. As she waited for the flames in the fireplace to flicker into the unique shade of blue that interconnected the secret room with select fireplaces around the school, she turned back.

"Professor… I know you know what happened last night," she said quietly. "Could you tell me… are other werewolves like that outside the full moon?"

"That man was an exception to the rule," said Dumbledore carefully. "As I am sure you can understand, a werewolf is equally defined by his human counterpart. Fenrir Greyback, as I have good reason to believe him to be, was predisposed for violence before he was ever attacked-"

"Wait, _that_ was Fenrir Greyback?" said Estella in shock, knowing the name of her godfather's attacker only too well. A boiling surge of anger coursed through her as she cursed the lost opportunity to avenge her godfather's years of pain. The thought of her godfather reminding her, then, of something the crazed man had said, another question left her lips; "would that be why he said that he could smell a wolf in my scent? He seemed to think _I_ was a werewolf, and was rather surprised when he could detect otherwise…"

The headmaster looked at Estella carefully and stroked his beard. "This is a surprising, and yet not altogether unexpected development," he said thoughtfully; "I do not wish to get into specifics when you are so pressed for time, but I will say that it is highly fortunate that you have always maintained such a close bond with your godfather-"

"-Why?" said Estella, tilting her head to one side as she considered the thought. Remembering then, a certain incident in the past in which her father and James had used her Time Turner to change the events of a fateful full moon in their fifth year, she shivered.

"Some things cannot quite be undone, can they?" she said, looking the headmaster square in the face. "I… I mean this is why people didn't habitually use Time Turner to undo their children getting bit, isn't it? I mean Dad and James managed to stop me contracting the Lycanthropy and physical scars of being bitten, but part of me really did, irreversibly become Moony's cub that night, didn't it?"

"You have always been close, there was no way of confirming it," said Dumbledore; "but I had duly suspected it."

Suddenly, the sense of closeness she had felt towards her godfather since her return from the past was suddenly beginning to make sense. An untrained eye would just pass it off as two family members being extra-sensitive towards one another after an extended absence, but now she knew differently. Now, her ability to almost sense her godfather's presence, and the depth with which she missed him when they were apart, was cast into a much more meaningful light. She then realised that it was a very fortunate thing that people were not given the opportunity to use a Time Turner to prevent a werewolf attack when the attacking wolf is not naturally close to the family. Beginning to appreciate, then, how things could have turned out otherwise, Estella considered herself fortunate for two reasons: one, that while she had been bitten by someone she loved and trusted, she had no memory of the event and no affliction because of it, and two, she was now, virtually, as much Remus' as she was her father's.

"Does he know?" she asked, not needing to elaborate whom she was referring to.

"No," Dumbledore shook his head. "At least I have not shared my suspicions with him… he may have acknowledged the bond without understanding quite how it really came about, however… much like, I suspect, you have all this time."

Making her decision, Estella squared her shoulders determinedly. "I don't want him to know," she said clearly; "so long as he thinks that we're like this because he practically raised me, he won't feel any guilt. If he learns that part of our bond was 'manufactured' by certain events, then I just know he will try to discredit them, just to punish himself."

"I understand," said Dumbledore, inwardly proud of the girl's thoughtfulness. Telling her as such, he patted her shoulder and tossed some Floo Powder into the fireplace. He was halfway through bidding her good day one final time when the increasingly distracted girl cut him off.

"Are you scared?" she asked solemnly, looking the headmaster in the eye and noticing, straight away, that his twinkle had been extinguished.

"Not for me, child," he said heavily, in a rare moment of unguardedness. "Not for me."

And with that, Estella stepped into the fireplace, and was gone.

* * *

It was the first day of term. Estella had just fallen asleep for the night when the shrill call of the Phoenix summoned her from her dreams. Unlike the last time Fawkes had come to beckon her to the headmaster's office before the holidays, this time the bird latched onto her sleeve and, as soon as she showed signs of being awake, orbed them directly into the living room of Grimmauld Place.

Still entangled in her blankets, Estella rolled to the floor in shock when she found that she was so suddenly sprawled on the lounge of the crowded front room. The sound of her muffled moans as she hit the floor and wrestled free of her bedclothes turning heads, Estella was chagrined to become the subject of the older wizards laughing.

"Nice of you to _drop in_," said Sirius, hauling his daughter to her feet and wrapping her into a tight embrace.

"What is it? What's happened?" said Estella, her questions going unanswered as she felt her father let go and the familiar arms of her godfather take their place. Looking up at the man now holding her in surprise, she gaped. "M-m-moony, what are you still doing here?"

"Oh, it's nice to see you, too!" said Remus, his hand flying up automatically to cover Estella's mouth as she yawned. Pulling her close once more, he inhaled deeply – as he usually did when reacquainting himself with his godchild – and froze. "What… what's this? Estella…"

Eyes flying open in alarm, Estella pulled out of her godfather's embrace and, taking a step back, tripped over her blankets spectacularly and fell back onto the lounge where, incidentally, Fawkes had just deposited a sleepy Harry. The room broke out into jittery chuckles once more as the teenagers untangled themselves from each other, things still somewhat awkward between them in the wake of the mistletoe incident. Remus' concentrated stare at his goddaughter was dispelled by the clearing of their leader's throat.

"Now we are all here," he said gravely, "I can address the reason for this emergency meeting."

Estella and Harry stood on either side of Sirius, one of his hands firmly squeezing each child's shoulder as the headmaster informed them all of a mass breakout from Azkaban. Keeping Tonks on her other side, Estella was careful to keep her distance from her godfather. That he could detect Greyback's scent on her was unexpected, and she knew she would have to broach the issue eventually, but in the meantime she didn't want to give her godfather the opportunity to start entertaining unfounded thoughts and suspicions.

The assortment of Order Members, all evidently pulled from various stages of sleep, listened intently as the headmaster detailed the circumstances of the prisoner's escape. Pulling a sheet of parchment from his robes and then enlarging it so that it could be seen by all, he suspended the notice in the air and began calling upon his audience to offer specific courses of action.

"This," he explained, pointing to the display, "is an advance copy of what the _Daily Prophet_ will be running with in the coming morning's edition. I suggest you read over it and suggest any changes that may need to be made."

Ever since the change in the Ministry's administration, media outlets had been closely monitored when it came to articles pertaining to the Dark Lord's return. While the intent was not to censor crucial information, the former head of Magical Law Enforcement thought it meritorious to maintain a strict balance between keeping the general public informed, whilst leaving them with some sense of security. It would not do to have thousands of panicking witches and wizards too scared to view things objectively… experience from the first war dictated that it was entirely stagnating to make people _too_ vigilant – the number of false alarms from over-zealous families alone had severely drained Auror resources, taking away from the time and effort they could have been deploying their resources towards genuine threats.

"As you can see," the headmaster spoke over the din of muttering that accompanied so many people reading at once, "the Minister has requested that details of Bellatrix Lestrange's escape be revisited in order to remind the general public that she too is still at large…"

Estella could barely make out the headmaster's words as her eyes traversed the page, taking in the sight of the ten black-and-white photographs that filled it. Some of the people in the photographs were silently jeering; others were tapping their fingers on the frame of their pictures, looking insolent. Each picture was captioned with a name and the crime for which the person had been sent to Azkaban.

_Antonin Dolohov_, read the legend beneath a wizard with a long, pale, twisted face who was sneering up at them, _convicted of the brutal murders of Gideon and Fabian Prewett._

_Augustus Rookwood_, said the caption beneath a pockmarked man with greasy hair who was leaning against the edge of his picture, looking bored, _convicted of leaking Ministry of Magic secrets to He Who Must Not Be Named_.

But Estella's eyes – and indeed that of the family around her - were drawn to the picture of the witch. Bellatrix Lestrange's face had leapt out at father and daughter the moment the page had been presented to them. The woman had long, dark hair that looked unkempt and straggly in the picture, and glared up at them through heavily lidded eyes, an arrogant, disdainful smile playing around her thin mouth. Like her father, Estella noted that her distant cousin had retained vestiges of great good looks, but something – perhaps Azkaban – had taken most of her beauty.

_Bellatrix Lestrange, convicted of the torture and permanent incapacitation of Frank and Alice Longbottom. Escaped from Azkaban on the 31st October, and suspected to have a hand in this latest escape._

Estella nudged Harry and pointed at the headline over the pictures, which Harry, still concentrating on Bellatrix, had not yet read.

MASS BREAKOUT FROM AZKABAN

_MINISTRY FEARS LESTRANGE IS 'RALLYING POINT'_

_FOR OLD DEATH EATERS_

The Ministry of Magic announced late last night that there has been a mass breakout from Azkaban.

_Speaking to reporters in his private office, Rufus Scrimgeour, the former head of the MLE department and newly appointed Minister, confirmed that nine high-security prisoners escaped in the early hours of yesterday evening and that he has already informed the Muggle Prime Minister of the dangerous nature of these individuals._

"_We find ourselves, most unfortunately, in the same position we were several months ago when the murderess Bellatrix Lestrange escaped," said Scrimgeour last night. "Nor do we think the two breakouts are unrelated. An escape of this magnitude suggests outside help, and we must remember that Lestrange, as the second person to ever break out of Azkaban, would be ideally placed to help others follow in her footsteps. We think it likely that these individuals, who include Lestrange's husband, Rudolphus, have rallied and are been led by the woman to their old master. We are, however, doing all we can to round up the criminals, and we beg the magical community to remain alert and cautious. On no account should any of these individuals be approached."_

_On the question, then, if any of the escapees were, like Azkaban's first fugitive Sirius Black, innocent, Scrimgeour was reticent._

"_The case of Sirius Black was an isolated occurrence," the Minister vowed, drawing light to the unfortunate circumstances that saw the innocent man imprisoned without trial. "The department for Magical Law Enforcement does not make it a habit to incarcerate individuals for crimes they did not commit." _

"Well that's good to know," said Sirius dryly, a mixed feeling of vindication in his eyes. Those who knew the wrongly-imprisoned man personally favoured him with a sympathetic look, and Estella returned to her father's side, latching onto him securely. It was then that she realised that her uncle was the only Order member absent.

"In other developments," the headmaster interrupted her thoughts, "Broderick Bode has died…"

"We saw him," Harry whispered in her ear as the headmaster's voice droned on about the details surrounding the man's suspicious death. "The day we all visited Mr Weasley in St Mungo's. And we saw the Devil's Snare arrive. She – the Healer – said it was a Christmas Present. Why didn't anyone recognise the Devil's Snare? I… I've seen it before… we all had… we could've stopped this from happening."

"Who expects Devil's Snare to turn up in a hospital disguised as a potted plant?" said Estella sharply, calling the adult's attention to their whispered conversation. "It's not anyone's fault but the person who sent it to the bloke in the first place. Headmaster, do we know if Healer Strout was involved in the plot? It _is_ being treated as a murder, is it not?"

"The circumstances are suspicious," said the headmaster without conviction, "but I am afraid his death has been over-shadowed by the prisoners' escape."

"So his murderer will go free?" Sirius growled, and it was apparent that the man was thinking of how convenient it was for murders to go unchecked when, in his day, innocent people were committed without trial to appease public opinion.

There was a whisper of scuffling as Order members began to shift uncomfortably. Albus Dumbledore sighed and gave Sirius a reproachful look.

"Sirius, surely you can understand why the investigation of Bode's murder is not a high priority at the present time…" the old wizard's voice trailed off as Sirius gave him an annoyed 'of-course-I-do' look. Identifying that Sirius was just taking the opportunity to rant, he carried on with his agenda. "Well, seeing as we're all together, how about we bring the next scheduled meeting forward?"

The meeting that followed was more or less routine, with the exception that both teenagers were present and a majority of Order members were in their pyjamas. The field members of the Order were given instructions on how to approach the escaped convict situation, and certain assignments were adjusted slightly to cater for the new threat. Harry's turn to give his report came and went – the slightly embarrassed teenager quickly informing the group that he had no new news to report – and then before she knew it, it was Estella's turn.

"I had intended to meet with my advisor one more time to iron out any kinks," she said hesitantly, "but I am fairly confident that we have done all we can, and so I can unveil the finished product now if you like."

Several heads nodded in assent, and Estella excused herself to retrieve her project. With Fawkes' assistance, she orbed from Grimmauld Place, directly to her secret Keep, and then, picking up a handful of long, thin cases and throwing on a robe over her pyjamas, returned. Letting, then, a few moments pass so as to suggest to the majority of Order members that she had indeed just travelled up to her room in the house to get her bounty, she waited on the stairs outside the door. Upon re-entering the room, however, she realised her mistake: Mad-Eye Moody had both been able to see her method of transportation and her lingering hesitation to rejoin them, and was regarding her with a strange expression on his face. Fawkes retrieving the teenagers from their beds on Dumbledore's orders was one thing, but Fawkes being seen favouring Estella was something best kept under wraps. Looking to the headmaster for help, she was relieved when the old man was able to silently appease the vigilant ex-Auror's curiosity, and she was able to begin her unveiling without incident.

In all, she could not understand why Dumbledore had placed so much value on her input in this particular project. All Benson Ollerton's actions in the past served to do was possess her with knowledge that several years of expert study could have procured. Any number of skilled broom makers could have taken on the task of customising a model specifically for the Order's needs, and in fact Benson had carried out a lot of the practical spell-work on her behalf. She could not have done it alone, and yet in validating her acceptance into the Order membership, Dumbledore had surely given everyone that impression. Recalling the conversation she'd had with the man over the Christmas holidays, it occurred to her as to why the headmaster was so pliant in fast-tracking her Order initiation and presenting her as a Member of some value. It wasn't that the headmaster had truly deemed her ready, or even the most suited, for the task, but rather he had recognised her potential and wanted to experience her reaching it in his lifetime. The old man had confessed to her that he had duly suspected Harry to be Fawkes' next-in-line, which surely accounted for the man's concessions in the Gryffindor's case. That all was revealed to the headmaster during their initiation ceremony, Estella couldn't help but wonder if Fawkes himself had held some measure of influence over his familiar, ensuring that he was given the opportunity to anoint Estella as his successor. It wasn't after all, as though Fawkes could simply approach Estella unannounced – as amicable her intentions towards the bird in the past may have been, she would have been likely to hex the creature if it had suddenly attempted to get close to her without reason.

With a measure of trepidation and nerves, she sat one of the cases down on the table in front of her and enlarged it. Taking a deep breath, she opened the lid and pulled out the sleek, polished handle of the prototype, placing the broom upon a conjured mount for all to see.

"This, ladies and gentleman," she said, sparing a glance towards her father, Remus and Harry who all looked as though they were about to leap out of their skins in their eagerness to touch the new broom. "… is the Flaming Torpedo." She couldn't help but smirk as scores of accomplished wizards mouthed the unfamiliar word, acquainting themselves with the new name. "There is, of course, a rather colourful tale as to how it got its name, but I'll save that for another day –" she revelled in the mounting curiosity of the Gryffindor-strong crowd, her lips curling at the memory. 'flaming' was a homage not only to Fawkes' most identifiable characteristic, but also a wink and a nod to a word that Benson had favoured whenever flustered. As for 'Torpedo', she was, intentionally, drawing comparisons with the Muggle weapon, both in terms of its speed, stealth and effect against enemies; but with only a handful of Muggleborns and half-bloods present, it was a reference that was lost in translation and Estella had neither the time nor the inclination to explain.

"That is some piece of work!" said Sirius proudly, admiring the sleek, aerodynamic design from afar. "If it flies as well as it looks, it ought to outstrip the Firebolt in standard flight, am I right?"

"In a manner of speaking," said Estella, recalling one of Benson's favourite creeds, which she shared with the group; "a broom is only ever as good as its flier."

Many heads nodded in agreement, and Estella took the initiative to explain some of the Torpedo's more specialised features.

"Using the pulp of a glow worm and infusing it with our wood grain, we were able to develop a fixture that, on command, makes the tip of the broom iridescent," she demonstrated how the tips of the broom would light up like a Muggle headlight, much like an enlarged wizard's wand. "Theoretically, the standard Disillusionment spells ought to conceal the broom's glow in much the same way it would obscure a regular broom from view… though it hasn't been tested."

Around her, heads nodded in understanding. Estella noted with some surprise that several were furiously scribbling down notes.

"Now, thanks to the willing cooperation of our trusted mascot," she said, and sure enough Fawkes chose that moment to appear on Estella's shoulder; "each model has been imbued with latent healing abilities. _However_, as the Phoenix Tear has been spent on the wood grain and not directly applied, it is limited to only providing the rider with _temporary_ relief – theoretically enough for that person to retreat and seek proper medical attention…"

Estella's presentation was interrupted by the excited murmurs of the Order members, all nodding in fervent approval and awe at how many lives such a feature could save. A few people started to clap, but Estella halted them with a modest hand.

"Please, there's more…" she said feebly, feeling suddenly self-conscious under all the attention. She couldn't help but feel bad for standing up here, seemingly taking credit for what was really a collaborative effort. All right, so she had conducted the research to determine just what a battle broom needed, and she had pioneered the course of the design on paper, but without the magical prowess of a very small, dedicated team of people, her vision would never have been able to become a reality.

"More?" someone gasped from the back, eyes wide. Estella ignored them and continued on down her mental list of attributes.

"On the communication front, riders shall be able to communicate to each other via Morse Code," she said. "It's a Muggle initiative, and I implore for you all to learn. For those of you who are familiar with the technology, it will work accordingly: each broom is designated with a call-sign, in itself ensuring the anonymity of our names for optimum security in the field. To convey a message between one or more brooms, the rider would first code in the call-signs of those which they are trying to communicate with and, by tapping either a finger, hand or wand on the handle of his broom, will cause the recipient's brooms to pulse in time, thus relaying the message."

"But won't that prove a distraction?" someone asked, "having to tap out a message and interpret it?"

"To someone not well-versed in Morse Code, yes," said Estella solemnly. "But I have read of the code's effectiveness during Muggle wars, and I have every confidence that with the right amount of proficiency, it will become as second-nature as talking. I suggest that we rely on our conventional methods of communication until that level is reached."

"Why can't we just talk into the handles of our wands?" another witch asked.

"Because spoken discussion can be overheard, or intercepted, even with your standard stealth Charms," said Estella, her eye landing on Moody's magical eye pointedly. "On the other hand, how many Death Eaters do you know who would be familiar with Muggle forms of communication? Methods, mind you, that are not even readily employed by regular Muggles themselves these days?"

"The girl has a point," said Moody in her defence, nodding to her once in approval. Estella expelled a breath she had been holding and smiled in appreciation.

"What if one of the brooms falls into the wrong hands, and they figure it out?" someone else said, raising a valid point.

"I assure you, that if any broom were to fall into the wrong hands, it would not be there for long," said Estella with a smile. "The anti-theft precautions are cutting-edge, and personally, I find it very apt that this particular model should turn to ash if ever stolen from an Order member."

The few that could catch the implied joke at such a late hour chuckled warmly in appreciation, and Estella felt at ease once more. Turning her attention, then, to the more routine specifications of the broom – handling, speed and the like – she then began to round up her presentation with a request.

"Before I issue each of you with your broom," she said, "I ask of two things. One, a drop of your blood will be required to tie the broom to you – otherwise the anti-theft features will not work. At the headmaster's behest I must insist that the process be carried out in the presence of either myself or a senior member of the Order otherwise you will not receive your broom. Second, I can only stress so much that these brooms are not yet field-tested. While I have been assured that they will never lose their flight capabilities – so do not worry, no one will be falling from the sky – several of the additional features may be prone to fade over time. As such, it will be crucial that you carry out regular pre-flight inspections and report any anomalies as they occur. Of course it cannot be expected that you check your brooms before _each_ flight – for we all know how unexpected some journeys may be – but allotting the time to service your broom once a week could potentially save your life. You each will be given a memory, serving in place of an instruction manual, upon accepting ownership of your broom. It will inform you of how to take care of your broom - particularly which of the accompanying polishes to use and where - as well as impress upon you the call-signs of your fellow fliers and the principles of Morse Code. It is vital that you only use the supplied waxes and polishes in taking care of your broom – commercial brands may compromise the effectiveness of the special features. If you start to run out, you can order more at a meeting here."

Pausing to take a breath, and to see if her audience were taking it all in, she reached into her case and pulled out a crystal vial, full of a translucent, silvery liquid. "Now, each of these memories has been tailored for the individual and tested to ensure that once administered, cannot be extracted, by either force or free-will. I suggest you do not try to see what each other's memory contains." Taking the broom and replacing it, and the vial, in its case, she closed the lid with a silent thud before gesturing to the carrier as a whole. "Your broom and all associated equipment will come in one of these cases. I strongly urge you to, whenever practical, keep everything together. Keeping the broom in its case will minimise the effects that direct shrinkage could have on overall performance, and when in flight, the shrunken case can be attached to the undercarriage of the handle and used to securely store confiscated wands. If there are no further questions, I would now like to take the opportunity to record everybody's height and weight, so that each model can be specifically sized to your needs…"

* * *

"That was _bloody brilliant_!" said Harry after the meeting, excitedly hopping from one foot to the next. Behind him, Estella could only laugh as her father mirrored the Boy-Who-Lived's enthusiasm.

Unable to hold back any longer, she ushered the two over-excited Gryffindors into a side-room and pulled two identical, wand-sized cases from a pocket in her robes.

"I took the liberty of sizing you two up when commissioning the first prototypes," she said with a smile. "I've already sourced your blood and everything."

"Resourceful little imp, aren't you?" said Sirius with a scowl, racking his mind to think of a time when his daughter could have siphoned off some of his blood.

"It's what you get when you grow up the niece of an accomplished Potions Master," said Estella with a shrug, happy to let two of the most trusted people in her life think that she regularly stockpiled samples of blood, hair and nails like a dutiful Potions brewer.

Estella's words fell on deaf ears, however, as the two rapt wizards retrieved their brooms from within their cases and marvelled at them reverently. Her warning to Harry that he especially had to go to lengths to make sure that no one noticed anything _special_ about his broom went especially unheeded until she caught their attention by causing their broom handles to burn hot.

"What the -?" said Sirius, almost dropping his broom in surprise.

"Whoops," said Estella, feigning innocence, "did I forget to mention that? Ah well, it's all in the memory vial."

Having caught the pair's attention, Estella explained to the younger of the two that the Flaming Torpedo was not designed to be a Quidditch broom… or in fact a model that could be flown in front of any form of spectators. Of course, a broom was a broom and he was free to fly how he pleased, but in order to maintain the element of surprise when the Order decided to start using the brooms in coordinated aerial attacks, it was important that no hint of their existence reached the ears of any Death Eaters.

"It's okay," said Harry with a shrug, "it's not like I don't have an International-standard broom for Quidditch already anyway,"

Unusually not wanting to spark a Quidditch debate, Sirius attempted to change the subject by suggesting that the pair head on up to bed. Declining the invitation to stay at headquarters, Estella called upon her father to give Remus his broom, passing on her farewell, and then, with a dramatic yawn, called upon Fawkes to take her back to her bed in the Ravenclaw dormitories.

Suddenly left alone with Harry, who was muttering something about Estella being insane for using such a method of transportation by _choice_, Sirius could not quite understand why his daughter appeared to be avoiding Remus. Passing on the man's broom and Estella's message to the weary werewolf, he was further concerned to note that Remus was similarly confused – and hurt – but both men knew that their answers would have to wait.

* * *

Estella felt awful. In the weeks that passed, she had been progressively skirting certain issues with her godfather. No sooner had she settled back into her bed in the Ravenclaw dormitory in the small hours of that night, had the man found a quiet place to contact her from. The steady thrum of her charmed mirror burned through her pillow like a hole in her conscience, and for the first time in her life she really didn't know what to say to the man. She owed him more than a simple reassurance that it was nothing personal, and yet short of lying to him, she didn't know how to explain why she had physically avoided him after their initial contact. Instead, calling upon his sensibilities by drawing light on her fatigue and need for sleep, she bought herself some time. With her godfather going back undercover, she knew that future mirror-calls would be necessarily short and infrequent, and so when they came she made sure to dazzle her godfather with trivial news about her day-to-day life, strategically side-stepping the questions that, with time, the man began to convince himself were a folly. He hadn't held her long enough to really pinpoint the foreign scent on her person, and was disinclined to entertain worst-case scenarios when it came to his goddaughter. Estella felt shameful for taking such advantage of that fact.

Meanwhile, things between Estella and her uncle were entering shady territory. The man was becoming increasingly aloof and secretive, methodically training her and treating her as though preparing her for something… something she may have to face without him. They still enjoyed their regular sessions of Chess and potions brewing on top of their extra-curricular Defence lessons, but their time together now seemed to have a measure of purpose to them.

"Are you certain you would not face repercussions if Umbridge found out about these sessions?" asked Estella for the umpteenth time. January had turned into February, and they were currently welcoming the first day of March; the pair convening early on the Saturday morning. "The Defence lessons you give me could well not be applicable as a breach of Educational Decree twenty-whatsit-"

"_Six_," her uncle supplied, not looking up from his notes.

"Twenty-_six_," Estella corrected herself; "…but you're not on salary as Potions Master anymore -"

"I've said it before, and I'll say it again, Estella," said Severus exasperatedly, "our situation is unique! No Educational Decree can determine what a _guardian_ chooses to impart upon a child, and there is no rule that stipulates that I cannot exercise my right as your guardian outside of class hours. Now, straighten up and pay attention, this is not a potion to be trifled with! I will not hold your hand through this brew again!"

"Yes, but couldn't Umbridge make a rule that limits what you can do while in school grounds?" said Estella, too preoccupied with trying to establish where the woman stood to pay proper attention to her work.

"That is why what we do in our time together is not broadcast for her to see!" her uncle shook his head, barely holding onto his patience. Seeing that she was just about to place a potentially explosive ingredient into her cauldron, he snapped out a hand and grabbed her wrist. "Are you _trying_ to blow us up?"

Estella looked down at the Monkshood she had mistakenly picked up and gulped, retracting her hand away from the cauldron slowly. "_No_," she said tiredly, her eyes darting around the chopping board in search of the correct ingredient, effectively avoiding her uncle's penetrating gaze. Sulkily, she began to aimlessly grind her pestle in her mortar, further pulverising an earlier prepared ingredient. "I don't understand why you have this sudden desire to have me brew _Wolfsbane_ by myself! You should know as well as anyone that I just don't have the patience for that kind of detail, I'm never going to be able to pull it off by myself - "

"You ought to hope, for your godfather's sake, that you find the motivation," said Severus sharply, stilling her hand before she completely destroyed the crushed roots under the pestle. "Whether you chose to admit it or not, you have an eye for potions… you just lack the passion to stick with anything that doesn't spark your fickle interests."

"But I _am_ interested in Wolfsbane!" said Estella shrilly, pushing the mortar aside and scowling at herself when she couldn't remember where she was up to. "I just don't see why I need to master it. I could never trust myself to make it for Remus, and I'll never have to so long as you're here-"

"And I am expected to infinitely supply a potion to a man I owe no such consideration to?" said Severus pointedly. "I am disappointed, Estella. In the very least I would have thought that your famed maturity and self-reliance would drive you to _trust yourself_ to the task. You have allowed your faith in me to cloud the reality that not even I can be dependable."

Her uncle's words stirred a familiar fear in her heart, and she gripped the edges of the counter stiffly. "There you go hinting to a time when you will not be with us, Uncle Sev," said Estella lowly, looking up at him with piercing eyes. "Are you _certain_ there is something you're not telling me?"

"Oh, there are plenty of things I am not telling you," said Severus vaguely, "and none of them your business to know."

"If any of it involves you _leaving_ _me_ by going off and getting yourself killed it sure as hell _is_ my business!" snapped Estella, sneering in horror at the mere thought.

Considering her words, Severus stared into her eyes. "I assure you, that I have no active plans to go off and '_get myself killed_'," said Severus analytically, craftily leaving out any denial regarding plans to leave her otherwise. "I have always maintained, Estella, that my role in this war and the consequences as such are matters which you needn't concern yourself with."

"You _used_ to keep me informed!" sulked Estella.

Severus raised a brow in challenge, but said nothing to dispel her belief. Choosing his words very carefully, he sought to placate her concerns. "I give you my word, that should I be required to do anything that would lead you to question my intentions towards _you_, then I will be forthcoming with you," said Severus. "Otherwise, let it be assumed that my conduct reflects no bearings on the nature of our relationship."

"So," said Estella sarcastically, "if you turn on the Order tomorrow and become a Death Eater calendar model, you'll do so with my best interests at heart and still be the same uncle I know and love?"

"Unless I tell you otherwise," said Severus coyly, a little disturbed at his niece's imagery.

"So I guess it would be a little redundant, then, me asking you what side you're really on?" said Estella conversationally, not really harbouring any suspicions about her uncle's loyalties, but suddenly curious as to what he might say.

"If you were anybody else questioning my resolve, I would be insulted," said Severus pointedly; "but in an effort to indulge your insufferable quest for answers, I will remind you that my principal concern – my overriding loyalty – is to this family, and what is best for _you_."

Estella nodded faintly, and returned her attention to the task at hand. Whilst she had heard such affirmations before, it only just occurred to Estella that she had never really heard where her uncle stood in terms of the greater issues at hand. His actions, for all intents and purposes, leant to the theory that he was a dutiful spy and force for the light, but given that his only other alternative at the time had been a life sentence in Azkaban, with Estella institutionalised without a family, the faint possibility that his motives had been a little more self-serving than politically-minded could not help but surface in her mind. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more she realised that her uncle was true to his word. Irrespective of if he was on Dumbledore's side, or Voldemort's, he was never one to try and push her into something that would not be the best thing for her. He could have encouraged her to adopt the Light's way of thinking because it was _best for her_; and then, in turn, he could have been masquerading himself as loyal to both sides all these years because it was _in her best interests_ that he not make any enemies on either side.

"You're a real Slytherin, Uncle Sev," she said, brushing off her uncle's meandering attempts to skim through her thoughts. "And I want you to know that whatever _is_ going through that illusive head of yours, you'll always have a piece of my heart."

Fighting to hide the extent of his gratitude, Severus nodded stiffly and muttered something about his niece being corrupted by old sentimental fools. "Be careful what you say, Estella Black," he said seriously. "For I may just hold you to that one day."

Before Estella could ponder just what her uncle meant by that, their peaceful time together was interrupted by the sound of rushing footsteps and voices. Instantly on alert, the two kin vanished the potion – which had been just about ruined anyway – and headed out into the hallway, wands drawn. Following the sounds of the footsteps, the pair could soon identify the sounds of Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey, each fighting to be heard over the nonsensical babbling of the current Potions Professor.

"I don't know what happened, we were just about to have a toast!" said Slughorn, leading them towards his office in another wing of the dungeons. "And then he just keeled over – it truly was remarkable, I've never seen a poison take hold so quickly! Thank goodness young Potter's so quick on his feet and readily recalled that I had a bezoar on hand - "

Unable to stomach any sort of praise being bestowed upon his most reluctant student – especially when that praise centred on the boy's potions' abilities – Severus promptly spun on his heel and stalked off in the direction in whence they came. Shaking her head derisively, Estella watched her uncle go before making the decision to head to the hospital wing in anticipation of the poisoned students' arrival. Maybe there, she would encounter Harry away from the teachers, and she'll be able to discover what had happened.

It was evening before Estella had her chance to get some answers; the hospital wing was quiet, the windows curtained, the lamps lit. Ron's was the only occupied bed. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had just left with Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey, leaving Harry surrounded by Hermione and the lingering Weasley siblings. Entering the room silently, she drew a chair beside Harry and sat down, looking over at Ron's pale face in concern as she spoke.

"What happened, Harry?" she asked.

Harry retold the story that he had earlier recounted for the benefit of the adults who had first treated Ron, before allowing them all entry.

"…and then I got the bezoar down his throat and his breathing eased up a bit, Slughorn ran for help, McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey turned up, and they brought Ron up here. They reckon he'll be all right. Madam Pomfrey says he'll have to stay here a week or so… keep taking Essence of Rue…"

"Blimey, it was lucky you thought of a bezoar," said George in a low voice.

"Lucky there was one in the room," said Harry, with a sickly expression. Estella suspected that he was contemplating the alternative in his mind. Looking between the mass of redheads carefully, she could tell only too well that they were all aware of just how close Ron had come to dying. Far from suspecting the eccentric Potions Master of any foul play, Estella had a sneaking suspicion that something more sinister was underfoot… and, casting her mind back to the incident that previous term with Katie Bell and the cursed necklace, she couldn't shake the feeling that Draco was somehow involved.

"So the poison was in the drink?" said Estella quietly.

"Yes," said Harry at once. "Slughorn poured it out - "

"Would he have been able to slip something into Ron's glass without you seeing?" said Estella with baited breath, inwardly questioning on whether someone had thought to take away the entire bottle for testing.

"Maybe," said Harry, a dark look of comprehension sweeping his features. He shook his head; "but I don't think Slughorn intended on poisoning anyone. That bottle was intended for Dumbledore-"

"Well then, the poisoner didn't know Slughorn very well," said Hermione analytically. "Anyone who knew Slughorn would have known there was a good chance he'd keep something that tasty for himself."

'_just like anyone trying to smuggle a cursed object into the school would have surely known that Filch would have intercepted it_,' thought Estella to herself, realising all at once that if indeed Draco was involved, he appeared to be deliberately failing in his efforts. Filled with a surge of hope, Estella rose and hastily excused herself.

It was whilst passing through the Entrance Hall that Estella first detected the sounds of voices coming from just beyond the Castle's doors. Curious, the light-footed Ravenclaw headed towards the source, clinging to the walls and remaining in the shadows. Settling into her vantage point, she could not see either party, but she was close enough to recognise their voices. The headmaster and her uncle were in the midst of a rather heated discussion, and whilst the sight of the two conversing was nothing out of the ordinary and something that would usually move Estella on, out of respect of the privacy, this time she stayed, for never before had she heard the elder wizard be so short with her uncle. She listened on.

"You take too much for granted, Albus," she heard her uncle's voice, laced with an exasperation that was so unlike the man. "I am obliged to change my mind!"

"You gave me _your word_, Severus," Dumbledore reminded her uncle. "Do not dare to suggest to me that you do not care to honour that! That's not how you raised your niece, and so I expect you to act accordingly-"

"-You leave Estella out of this!" snapped Severus, causing Estella to jump, both at his tone and the mention of her name. No longer could she walk away from listening to this conversation.

"I will leave Estella out of this provided you conduct yourself in the manner by which we agreed," said Dumbledore quietly – from where she stood, Estella had to fight to hear.

"Are you _threatening_ me, old man?" said her uncle in a scathing tone. The shuffle of footsteps on the echoing stone indicated to Estella that her uncle had stepped closer to the man defensively.

Dumbledore's response was clear and unperturbed. "If you cannot fulfil your duty, then I will have no choice but to consider alternatives," he said.

"She's a _child_! You cannot possibly expect-"

"You, above all else, should know what can be expected from that child," Dumbledore cut him off. "We both know that she is the only other who could-"

"I won't stand for it!-"

"Then you will do your job!"

"What you are asking of me is outside the confines of my position, and you know it!" said Severus tersely.

"Then you will appreciate why I do not wish to have to ask _someone else_," said Dumbledore pointedly. In a quieter tone, one that then suggested to Estella that the old man had shifted the focus of their discussion onto something else, the headmaster sighed. "I do hope you have been forthcoming with the results of your investigations, Severus. I do not like to make generalisations, but all preliminary findings point to someone in your house…"

"I am doing all I can, headmaster," said Severus stiffly, and Estella could hear him talking through clenched teeth. "I cannot be anymore _forthcoming_ without compromising my cover."

"Well, see to it that you stay on top of things, Severus," said the headmaster reproachfully. "That's two students who have nearly died, now, and I needn't remind you how that does look to the school Governors - "

"It's a good thing _Harry Potter_ is around then to play the hero," sneered Severus sourly.

Having heard enough, Estella crept away, bound for the nearest place where she knew she wouldn't be disturbed. She'd just missed crossing the path of the great half-giant Hagrid, who had been listening from another vantage point on the outside of the castle. Unbeknownst to the retreating teenager, the bustling Keeper of Keys headed off in the direction from which she had just come, the bushy-bearded man bound for the hospital wing.

* * *

"Oh, it's you," said a glum voice, and the ghostly head of a girl appeared from behind the door of a cubicle in the never-used bathroom.

"Hello, Myrtle," said Estella, "expecting someone else, were you?"

"As a matter of fact, I was," said Myrtle, picking moodily at a spot on her chin. "He'd said he'd come back and see me…"

"Who, Harry?" said Estella, remembering the boy's tales of the ghost.

Myrtle shook her head. "No, though _he_ promised to pop in and visit me too," she said sourly "and I haven't seen _him_ in months and months. I've learned not to expect too much from boys."

"Over fifty years eying off the boys in the Prefect's Bathroom and you're only figuring this out _now_?" Estella scoffed, a brow raised in amusement as she crossed over to a sink, intending to splash some water on her face.

Sitting on the frame of the mirror that sat above the sink, Myrtle dangled her transparent feet into the water pooling in the sink and turning it ice cold; causing Estella to shriek when she splashed some on her face. Continuing on as though they were nothing but two school friends discussing trivial boy problems, Myrtle pouted and confided in the living girl before her.

"But I thought he liked me," she said plaintively. "Maybe if you left, he'd come back again… we had lots in common… I'm sure he felt it…" And she looked hopefully towards the door.

"When you say you had lots in common," said Estella, unable to help herself, "d'you mean he lives in an S-bend, to?"

"No," said Myrtle defiantly, her voice echoing loudly around the old tiled bathroom. "I mean he's sensitive, people bully him, too, and he feels lonely and hasn't got anybody to talk to, and he's not afraid to show his feelings and cry!"

Her keen hearing picking up on the opening of a door first, Estella turned slightly and spotted the room's new occupant before the young ghost in residence. "Draco," she stated, halting the boy in his tracks.

"Yes, yes, that's him," said Myrtle, oblivious. "How did you know that was who I was talking about?"

Estella was completely ignoring the ghost, otherwise preoccupied with the growing look of rage on Draco's face.

"You _told_!" he yelled at the ghost in disgust. "How could you _do_ that? I told you what would happen-"

"Draco, Draco! Calm down, will you?" said Estella in the now-sobbing ghost's defence. As soon as attention was no longer on her, the pale bespectacled ghost let out a wail and vanished down the nearest S-bend with a splash. When, then, Draco attempted to follow, his wand drawn and pointed at the cistern in the cubicle as though to summon the dead witch back, Estella stayed his hand. "Stop, damn it!"

"You don't understand; I have to stop her from telling anyone else!" said Draco, shrugging off her grip angrily, jabbing his wand in the air as he failed to think of a spell that could call a free spirit to him.

"Tell them _what,_ Draco?" said Estella, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him firmly. "I don't know _what_ you've confided in her, but all she told me was that a boy had been in here to see her, I swear! You needn't worry about her spilling your secrets to anyone – Merlin, everyone knows how she likes to hold her secrets over everyone! It's the only thing that amuses her – all the other ghosts say so!"

"Really?" said Draco, his voice betraying his hope. His anger seeping out of him, leaving him but a drained shell of a boy, he returned Estella's hold on him in kind and pulled her into an awkward hug. "I'm sorry for behaving that way. I'm glad you're here… truly."

"Is there anything you want to talk about, Dray?" she asked softly, pulling away slightly to look at the boy in curiosity. Inside, she was conflicted, for whilst part of her wanted to take the opportunity to take advantage of the situation and question him, the rest of her could see how tired and alone Draco looked. She may not have held any respect for the rut Draco had backed himself into by being such a proud, misguided Slytherin in pursuit of his master's approval, but she could identify with the feeling of isolation that being set apart from one's peers could create.

"You wouldn't understand," said Draco despondently. "You'd hate me."

"Why?" said Estella, making a decision to be blunt. "Because you're the one who gave Katie Bell the necklace and then passed that bottle of mead onto Slughorn?"

Unable to mask his surprise, Draco began to splutter. "How did you know?" He said finally, knowing it was pointless to try and deny it, particularly when he suspected that her uncle had told her. "Did Severus tell you?"

"He didn't have to," said Estella, reminding the boy of their encounter in Knockturn Alley. "Who do you think drew his attention to your link with that necklace?"

"You! _You_ tipped him off!" said Draco accusingly.

"Only because I thought my uncle might be able to help you," said Estella, knowing that her words could be skewed in any number of directions.

"I _don't want his help_!" he complained. "I don't need _anyone's_ help! I can do this myself! _He_ trusts me to the task!"

"Do you know what I think, Draco?" said Estella. "I think that you don't really want to do it. You're the smartest Slytherin in your year, and I am not fooled by these convenient hurdles that keep obstructing you in your task."

Draco tried to defend his methods, but Estella cut him off. "Do not insult me, Draco," she said, raising a brow as she crossed her arms over her chest. "This is _me_ you're talking to. I know you're capable of much more…"

"Oh, and you think it's easy then, do you?" he cut back. "Fixing the Cabinet is one thing, but killing someone? I'd like to see _you_ try!"

"Why? You've almost succeeded twice on your own," said Estella caustically, letting her disapproval be known, knowing that Draco would likely interpret it as disappointment for his recurrent failure.

Stepping closer to her, Draco was about to say something venomous, but then upon remembering who he was speaking to, he let his mask fall. "How… how am I supposed to do it?" he said in a broken voice. "It's Albus effing Dumbledore for crying out loud!"

Estella's pupils contracted marginally at Draco's words, and she involuntarily took a step back. "Are you for real?" she asked in disbelief. "You've actually been trying your hardest at this, haven't you?" a pause. "My God, Draco, can't you see what this is? Your precious master is trying to get you _killed_! Your mission isn't just so you can prove yourself or extend your family's gratitude at having its needs met, it's a suicide mission!" She paled with sickening realisation as her own words sunk in. "Holy shite, your father didn't just offer your services in exchange for my life being spared, he wagered your life! God Damn it, Draco, is your father so full of himself that he truly believes that those of his precious blood are infallible? Is he really so stupid -" she cut herself off, oblivious to Draco's increasing indignation, another sledgehammer hitting home. She swore vehemently as the truth sunk in. "Son of a BITCH! It was planned all along! That's what the Unbreakable Vow was for! I think I am going to be sick!"

Pushing past Draco, Estella rushed to a sink and, her knuckles turning white as she gripped to the edges of the ancient porcelain and proceeded to dry wretch, she continued to cry out a number of explicit expletives. Coming up beside her, Draco was proud and determined.

"I _don't need_ his help!" he said haughtily. "I didn't ask him to make that damned vow – I don't want him involved anymore than you do. I can do this myself – I _have to_!"

"And you truly think you will succeed?" said Estella disgustedly, "you, a pampered, misguided little snake; succeed where scores of fully-trained Dark Wizards have died before you? Are you in denial, or are you as equally dense as your father?"

Bristling slightly at her words, Draco was reminded of something she'd earlier said.

"What did you mean earlier, implying that my father had spared your life by wagering mine?" he said quietly.

Estella looked up at him in question, eyes widening when she could see nothing but genuine confusion on the boy's face.

"He didn't tell you, did he?" she said incredulously. "He actually roped you into all this without even telling you why? Tell me something, Draco, do you always follow your father so blindly?"

Draco erected his defensive walls at her words. "What would you have me do?" he said crossly. "You've seen first hand how demanding he can be! Your uncle can't even stand up to him… I have no choice but to do as he says, I can't believe that you of all people cannot appreciate that!"

"Draco," said Estella, rounding on the boy and touching his arm tentatively. "There is _always_ a choice."

"What, become a turncoat? Like that rat Pettigrew?" said Draco with disgust. "I will not betray my father."

"Why not? Voldemort killed his," said Estella pointedly, knowing it was a moot point to raise when the Dark Lord had no doubt demonised his parents to no end.

"I'm not even going to answer to that," said Draco. "If I can respect that your loyalties lie with _your father_ – which you've pointed out on more than one occasion – then I don't think am asking much by expecting the same in return."

Knowing that she was fighting a losing battle, Estella nodded and backed down.

"Very well," she said, "but I'm worried for you – you're fighting a losing battle."

"Then that's my destiny, isn't it?" said Draco stoically, so blinded by his familial loyalty that he was evidently prepared to die preserving the solidarity that he imagined to exist between father and son.

"Well, I can't say that I wish you well, because I don't particularly want _anyone_ to die," said Estella. "I pity the situation you are in, Draco, and I want it known that I think that _no one_ so young deserves such a burden on their shoulders; I think you're a formidable wizard, Draco Malfoy, one who is foolishly wasting his potential by spinelessly following his daddy's leave – no, don't give me that look, at least I am able to tell my father when and where to shove it if we don't agree on something! I can only hope that your convictions lead you to no harm…" she paused; taking a step closer and stabbing a finger in the taller boy's chest for emphasis. "…but that said, should _anything_ happen to my uncle – either ending his life itself, or life as he knows it – I _will_ not hesitate to kill you; and _that's _a promise."

"…and I would hardly blame you," said Draco in acknowledgement, swallowing in trepidation as he found himself faced with a number of decisions. "It is your right to protect your family's honour… as it is mine."

Staring at Draco indecisively, Estella considered her parting words carefully.

"Well let's hope that things don't come to that," she said, although deep down she knew that short of an altercation with his father, the Slytherin boy would not be deterred from his present course.

"I promise to do all in my power to keep your uncle out of it," vowed Draco, before bowing stiffly and excusing himself.

Alone in the bathroom once more, Estella considered her options. Unsure of whether it would work, she snapped her fingers experimentally and called out to her family's most reluctant house elf. "Kreacher!" she called out.

A few minutes ticked by, and Estella began to feel like a fool for actually thinking that the elf would hear her and come over such a distance. he had just been about to give up her folly and exit the bathroom, when a telling _pop_ heralded the elf's late, but timely, arrival.

"Mistress is calling Kreacher at her school!" said Kreacher, physically back peddling in awe and taking in the room they were in. "Mistress is calling Kreacher to a _bathroom_? Is Mistress requiring assistance? Kreacher remembers serving Kreacher's old Mistress well. Old Mistress often needed help in the bathroom. Kreacher is honoured to serve young Mistress the same."

Estella pulled a face – that was far too much information – and shook her head vehemently.

"Oh no, Kreacher," she assured the elf, who she now suspected was somewhat perverted; "I called you here so that we could talk without the danger of being overheard by other students."

"Ooooh! Mistress is telling Kreacher secrets!" Kreacher cooed, bouncing up and down for joy. "What is it that Mistress wishes to tell Kreacher?"

"Sorry Kreacher, I have no secrets for you, either," said Estella grimly, imagining the elf's glee when he had been free to impart Order secrets to her father's crazy cousin, Bellatrix. "But I do have a secret _mission_ for you!"

Giving Kreacher the task of tailing her uncle whenever he was outside of his quarters was, Estella knew, entirely unlikely to bear any fruit. Her uncle was far too perceptive and accustomed to espionage to miss the signs, and would likely detect the elf's presence before too long. That said, Estella had to acknowledge that Kreacher was one seriously twisted elf, and if duly motivated, could be capable of things no one would give him credit for. Only time would tell if her whimsical plan would have a point; in the very least it was serving well to keep the elf out of headquarters, where it could – and had – done more damage.

* * *

Another week came to a close, and with it, the scheduled Quidditch match between Hufflepuff and Gryffindor. With Ron still recovering from his poisoning, Harry had made the reluctant decision to allow his reserve Keeper, Cormac McLaggen to play, and it was now that Estella shared her commiserations with the lad, as they hurried through the deserted corridors. The whole school was outside, either already seated in the stadium or heading down towards it. Keeping pace beside her, Harry was looking out the windows he passed, trying to gauge how much wind they were facing, when a noise ahead made him glance up and he saw Malfoy walking towards them, accompanied by two girls, both of whom looked sulky and resentful.

Malfoy exchanged a look with Estella, but stopped short at the sight of Harry, giving a short, humourless laugh before continuing walking.

"Where're you going?" Harry demanded, brushing off the tentative hand Estella had placed on his arm, trying to silently encourage him to walk away.

"Yeah, I'm really going to tell you, because it's your business, Potter," sneered Malfoy, giving Estella a pointed look before landing back on his Gryffindor foe. "You'd better hurry up, they'll be waiting for the Chosen Captain – the Boy Who Scored – whatever they call you these days."

One of the girls next to Malfoy gave an unwilling giggle. Harry stared at her. She blushed. Malfoy pushed past Harry and the two girls followed at a trot, turning the corner and vanishing from view.

Harry stood rooted on the spot and watched them disappear, Estella stood at his side, waiting patiently for him to make the next move. The silent seconds trickled past, and Harry remained where he was, frozen, gazing at the place where Malfoy had vanished…

"C'mon, Harry, you're going to be late for the game," said Estella, tugging on his arm.

"But couldn't you… I mean I wouldn't mind if you skipped the game to follow Malfoy…" said Harry, looking at her pleadingly.

"No Harry," said Estella. "Even if I knew where he was going, and what he was up to, it's not my place to tell you. As much as it pains me to actually agree with Malfoy, it is really none of your business."

It was true, Estella had a fairly good idea what Draco was up to. Whilst she hadn't quite pinpointed where it was that the boy went – with Harry in possession of their fathers' map, it was hard for her to keep tabs – she was however, rather well informed when it came to his activities. She knew, from Draco's own admission, what he was expected to do, and knowing from experience that he didn't do anything without his two goons to back him up, he could only conclude that the two interchanging girls that were increasingly in his company were Crabbe and Goyle in disguise.

'_I bet Draco had an ulterior motive in making the Polyjuice solution with the hair of firsties_,' she thought to herself, thinking only too astutely that had Crabbe and Goyle transformed into buxom, fifteen year old girls, they may have been a little too… _distracted_… to keep an active look out.

"What are you smirking about?" said Harry, looking at her closely. "You know something, don't you? You do!"

"Yes; doesn't mean I am going to tell you, though," said Estella, raising her chin. "Suffice it to say that the relevant Order members have been kept abridge of the situation and appropriate – _discreet_ – action is being taken."

Estella had indeed informed her uncle of the discussion she had had with Draco that previous Saturday. The man had been wholly unsurprised by her reconnaissance and rather insistent that she keep her distance. He had stressed to her the importance of discretion – for if Draco Malfoy could so easily come close to killing two fellow students, there was no telling what he was capable of; especially when Harry Potter was not always on hand to provide an easy fix. Her uncle had again thanked her for bringing her intelligence to him, thus enabling him to properly furnish Dumbledore with the information he and he alone was directed to obtain.

On the question, then, of whether or not Dumbledore would have turned to her to play spy (with Draco) should her uncle have been unable to procure the information about the boys plans, Severus Snape was stoically quiet; which generally meant that the Slytherin preferred nondisclosure to lying. Knowing a brush off when she saw it, Estella had quickly changed the subject; her earlier curiosity, from when she had overheard her uncle and headmaster arguing, was no closer to being sated.

The very best thing you could say about the Quidditch match that afternoon was that it was short; the Gryffindor spectators had to endure only twenty-two minutes of agony. It was hard to say what the worst thing was: later, Harry thought it was a close-run contest between McLaggen's fourteenth failed save, Sloper missing the Bludger but hitting his team mate in the mouth with his bat, and one of his Chasers shrieking and falling off his broom when a member of the opposing team zoomed at them carrying the Quaffle. The miracle was that Gryffindor only lost by ten points: somewhere between being knocked unconscious by McLaggen's misfired Bludger and falling to the ground, Harry had managed to catch the Snitch; making the final score two hundred and forty versus two hundred and thirty.

Waking up in the Hospital Wing, in a bed alongside Ron, Harry groaned.

"Nice of you to drop in," said Ron, grinning as he looked over at him from where he had been holding a civil conversation with Estella, who was slumped in a chair between the two beds.

"What happened?" said Harry, raising a hand to the stiff turban of bandages that were wrapped around his head.

"Cracked skull," said Estella, swatting his hands away from his head. "Pomfrey mended it, of course, but she's insisting that you stay in overnight."

"I don't want to stay here overnight," said Harry angrily, sitting up and throwing back his covers, "I want to find McLaggen and kill him."

"Too late," said Estella with a smug look, cracking her knuckles. "Troll didn't know what hit him…"

"What did you do?" said Harry, sitting himself up against his pillows.

"Well, let's just say he's going to have problems sitting for, oh, the next month or so," said Estella wryly. "It's his own fault, really, for not allowing Pomfrey to apply the topical treatment… though I can hardly blame our dear nurse for not insisting; he really is a brute of a boy…"

Ron, who had already shared in the joke with the visiting Ravenclaw, began to chortle with amusement.

"She… she… she gave him a case of _haemorrhoids_!" said Ron with some degree of difficulty, since he was sniggering so uncontrollably. "Serves the git right for refusing treatment, though I suspect he just didn't want to be in here in case you woke up."

"He's smart, then," said Harry with a scowl, "cause when I get my hands on him…" his voice trailed off, and he backed down when he saw the amused look on Estella's face. Noticing that he had been flexing his fingers out in front of him, as though they were wrapped around a neck, he rubbed his hands together casually to cover and sighed. Estella cut in.

"Dad said to say that he's sorry he missed the game, and he sent some chocolates along with Tonks-"

"Tonks was here?" said Harry, straightening up, his anger at his reserve Keeper momentarily forgotten as he thought of his surrogate cousin.

Estella nodded, idly taking a bite from a block of chocolate she and Ron had been making short work of whilst waiting for Harry to wake up.

"Stayed a while, too," she said with a mouthful as she offered Harry some chocolate from its wrapper. "Think she wanted to stick around to make sure your chocolate was still in one piece when you woke up."

Harry stared from the chocolate wrapper, to a red-faced Ron and smirking Estella in mild confusion until the crafty Ravenclaw's words finally sunk in.

"Hey!" he protested, making a grab for what was left of the chocolate, only to have Estella snatch it away teasingly. "You ate my chocolate!"

"Waste not, want not," said Estella simply, sharing a conspiring look with Ron, who was looking like a Garden Gnome caught in wand-lights at the prospect of facing his best friend's wrath. "You were asleep, we were hungry. What did you expect?"

Shaking his head slightly, Harry conceded defeat and lolled back into his pillows.

"So why'd Tonks not stick around?" he asked, frowning slightly. "Trouble brewing in Hogsmeade?"

"If Tonks cooking Remus dinner leads to trouble, then most certainly!" said Estella with a lopsided grin. Her godfather had been reluctant to broadcast it for fear of the ribbing he'd get from her father, but Tonks had since confessed to her in confidence that the pair had been enjoying each other's company 'as much as their schedules would allow' (which didn't really equate to all that much). Ever since the mass-breakout from Azkaban, Remus had taken to spending the full moon back at the Shrieking Shack, and still being stationed in Hogsmeade, Tonks had taken to ensuring that Moony didn't transform on an empty stomach. Estella did not want to think about how difficult it must have been for the man to return there again after all that had transpired within its walls as far as she was concerned, but she had a fairly educated suspicion that her father was likely Apparating to the Shack every month and letting Padfoot help things along. When she'd spoken to her father earlier that afternoon in her mirror, for instance, the connection just felt all the more closer; she couldn't quite explain it.

Entertaining his own images of the unlikely couple enjoying each other's company whilst never quite summoning the courage to actually admit feelings towards one another, Harry nodded.

"When are we going to set those two up, already?" he rolled his eyes.

Estella shrugged, her eyes glinting with mischief as she found the opening she'd been waiting for.

"Speaking of trouble, _Ginny _came to visit while you were unconscious," she said leadingly, "she was very concerned for _you_."

"Yeah, her own brother gets poisoned and almost _dies_ and she couldn't stop looking at _you_ and wishing _you_ would wake up!" said Ron, rolling his eyes.

"Only because you're such illuminating company, Ronald," said Estella with a smirk. The impulsive Gryffindor had set himself up for that one.

Utterly embarrassed by the implication that he was even contemplating dating his best friend's sister, Harry quickly steered the conversation to the topic of Malfoy, and what he had been doing whilst skipping the last few Quidditch matches.

"Y'know, you could always have _Dobby_ tail him," suggested Estella, realising that Harry was not about to let the situation go. She had then been about to lecture him on how even Draco was entitled to his privacy and that she strongly suggested that he did nothing, but she didn't want to be discovered as a hypocrite if ever the news of Kreacher's latest task came out. Of course, she could argue that she was only having her uncle tailed when he was outside of his private chambers, and so he still got some privacy, but she knew that the exceptional comparison would not go down well on principle.

"Dobby knows Draco through and through, which means that he probably knows how to avoid the guy; and he's as loyal to you as a sick puppy dog," said Estella pointedly, her eyes flicking between the two boys as though to say that she wasn't about to elaborate in Ron's company. "There are _other_ things you ought to be spending your time obsessing about."

Knowing what not to discuss in front of Ron, but not _quite_ catching her meaning, Harry grinned. "Of course," he said with a smirk, "we've yet to put our plan 'get Umbridge' into practice…"

Inwardly shaking her head at Harry's missing of the point – but forgiving him for he did just suffer a nasty blow to his head, after all – the three of them sat up until past curfew, plotting their revenge upon the vile woman.

END CHAPTER

Next chapter due Saturday 1st of July.


	21. What goes around

Updated: Saturday 16 July 2006 (yes, I've been v. bad, I know...)

Disclaimer: If it were mine I wouldn't be working 5 days a week in a job that keeps me from meeting certain deadlines looks sheepish Anything familiar is shamelessly ripped from OotP...

****

**Chapter Twenty-one: _What goes around..._**

Operation Umbridge was soon well underway. If all went well, the incident with Filch, Umbridge, and a cloud of Lust Dust on Valentine's Day would pale by comparison. For unlike before, when Estella held nothing but through-and-through contempt for the woman, now it was _personal_.

The Lust Dust incident had been Estella's retribution for what the twins had done to she and Harry over the holidays. Fred had made the mistake of offering to 'do anything' in order to win her forgiveness, and the resourceful Ravenclaw was only too quick to take him at his words. The strategic placement of cameras, thanks Colin Creevey, secured lasting images from the rather disturbing interlude and Luna's father was only too happy to include the scandalous shots in a cover story that Estella, John, Harry and Hermione had anonymously contributed 'eye witness' accounts.

Within a day of its late February release, the March edition of the _Quibbler_ was selling in record numbers. As a condition for plastering the rather gruesome image of Umbridge 'fraternising with the help' on the cover of his left-of-centre magazine, Mr Lovegood had requested an exclusive interview with Harry, which he reluctantly gave on the proviso that it fill only the back pages; word-of-mouth alone considered enough to publicise the feature.

So, between all the gratuitous 'lies' Harry was quoted as saying about his 'devoted' godfather and the humiliation of the 'completely fictional' story about her, Umbridge had reacted rather badly to its publication, promptly passing an Educational Decree to effectively ban the magazine from the school. Before the ink had even the chance to dry on all the respective house's noticeboards, however, Fred and George were capitalising on the situation, offering Concealment Charms and Notice-me-Not bookmarks to anyone who did not wish to part with their copy for the tidy sum of one Sickle, one Knut. When questioned on their nominated price, George was only too happy to point out that the _Sick_-le was for Filch, and the Knut for, well, '_The Nut_'.

Pretty soon, the entire DA was in on the act, with Ginny joking that it was the group's first real 'assignment' as an army. Everyone's disposition was used to the advantage of the common goal; unassuming Hufflepuffs were deployed to get close to the woman and find out what she liked; Ravenclaws handled the research, and Gryffindors, plan execution. The proceeds Fred and George's 'Hide-the-_Quibbler_' initiative kept them well stocked with merchandise.

One by one, carefully orchestrated pranks were pulled off, with more often than not Umbridge the lone witness and victim. When the twins set off a sample of their Instant Darkness Powder one night whilst the woman was doing her rounds of the hallways, all evidence of the attack had dissipated by the time Professor McGonagall heeded the woman's screams of terror. The sight of the frazzled Inquisitor stumbling in the dark, vehemently declaring that her wand would not work left the Deputy Headmistress questioning the sanity of her reluctant colleague, and a report was carefully filed away in a drawer, just waiting for the day when evidence to discredit the woman would be needed.

Then there was the well-placed Hex that John had found, which made Umbridge cough up bright pink fur balls every other mealtime for a week. The woman's insistence that her condition was caused by a hex was readily dispelled by the school nurse, who took one look at her omnipresent pink cardigan and sent the Inquisitor on her way. Afterwards, at an Order meeting, Dumbledore conversationally informed the entire group that mealtime had not been so lively at the Staff table since the time the Marauders charmed the table's legs to move whenever the then Divination Professor professed to have 'foreseen' something. He then took the opportunity to unconvincingly admonish his Deputy for poking fun at the unfortunate woman's lack of appetite, revealing to the group that he seemed to remember a time when a certain cat Animagus had only just mastered her transformation and, as a side effect, had habitually coughed up fur balls for a month. Everyone had laughed heartily at that revelation, the mirth in the room only growing when the normally reserved Transfiguration Professor looked as though she might have hexed the headmaster had they been in different company.

"I don't think an _Order Meeting_ has been that lively since… since… since the time James made the mistake of sending a Tickling Hex at a pregnant woman!" Sirius had said afterwards, still grinning madly. "So… there are some new Marauders at this school of yours, huh?"

"An entire _army_ of them, or so I've heard," said Estella, feigning innocence.

"I thought you said you didn't want to try and give my old reputation a run for its money?" said Sirius, tucking her in – for she usually stayed the night after a meeting. His bottom lip protruded slightly as he considered the possibility that his and James' coveted notoriety could be outdone.

"I did," said Estella nodding, a smug look on her face. "_I_ haven't done anything to Umbridge… and you know I don't lie."

Sirius had scrutinised his daughter for a moment, his eyes narrowing.

"Not _directly_, you haven't," he corrected knowingly. "But I _know_ you are involved… no one else has an imagination like yours."

The grin on Estella's face got impossibly wider, but she admitted nothing. Far from being mad, Sirius had beamed proudly and promised to never get on his daughter's bad side.

* * *

March turned into April, and the Easter Holidays approached. Of all the people in the school, Dolores Umbridge looked as though she could use the break the most. Between having Fizzing Whizbangs set off outside her quarters during her favourite WWN broadcasts, and being short-sheeted by Peeves whilst she was _in_ the bed, the woman had clearly been losing sleep. Her unkempt appearance and even quicker temper, however, only served to reaffirm the DA's resolve; they, as well as almost the entire school, wanted the woman out.

Though Estella had many memorable moments during this coordinated, term-long campaign, she couldn't get past the _Quibbling Quill_. Lee Jordan, as part of Weasley Wizarding Wheezes' research into their range of trick quills, had come across an obscure incantation that, when applied to a person, caused them to write whatever they were trying to express in nonsensical limericks. When, one day, Umbridge had gone to write out another of her infernal Educational Decrees, and found that no matter the quill she used, she could only write in riddles, she had flown into a destructive rage. Taking every 'faulty' quill she could find straight to the headmaster as proof that someone was 'out to get her' she was made a laughing stock of the senior faculty when none of the other adults had any difficulty constructing sentences with the quills. Umbridge was looked down upon by her peers as being attention-seeking and over-imaginative, and another report was secretly filed away.

Luckily for all involved, the woman was far too dim to consider using a Priori Incantatem on herself to look for evidence of spell usage on her person. Not that it would have always borne results, mind, since all traces of the spells they were using would disappear once the hex had run its course – such was the nature of hexes and curses that were timed, rather than removable with a Finite Incantatem.

"Are we ever going to let up on her?" asked John one day, as they settled down to study for a Charms exam.

After assuring her house mate that she had no inclination of running of with the likes of Harry or Draco, the two Ravenclaws had made the amicable decision to cease pursuing that 'little something more' in their relationship and just remain friends. While it was true that Estella was in the midst of the age where she ought to be concerned with exploring the joys of finding a first love, there were just far too many obstacles keeping her from getting any real fulfilment from the pursuit. If she wasn't constantly afraid of Lucius Malfoy's reprisals, should she choose another, it was Voldemort. If it wasn't her reluctance to 'venture into the unknown', it was the fear that a close relationship with another boy would damage the sibling-like closeness she treasured with Harry.

Not many people – lest of all her father – could quite appreciate her ability to be so self-reliant and independent. Unlike Sirius, James, and to a certain extent, Remus, she was more than accustomed to her own company; her uncle's influence over her life impressing upon her a sense of self-sufficiency. The years she had also spent, picked upon and ostracised from her classmates in Primary School had inflicted a lasting effect, she was still intimidated by large groups of peers. She had to work hard over the past four years to forge any sort of bond with her housemates… and even then, she found that as they all got caught up in their sports, studies or respective love lives, it was not unusual for them to go days without talking. Moments like this, now, in the library, were increasingly few and far between, but since deciding to stay firm friends, Estella and John had been going to lengths to make an effort.

Estella looked up from her sheet of parchment and favoured her friend with an incredulous look.

"Hell no!" she said, "_especially_ not after she had tried to turn the entire library into one big Restricted Section!"

In retaliation for the constant targeting Umbridge had fallen 'victim' to, the controlling woman had attempted to limit the library to students with 'genuine study requirements.' A rare moment of perceptiveness had correctly guessed that her unidentified foes were using the library to conduct their research, and she had wanted to strike back at the core of the problem. When the Board of Governors stepped up and vetoed her ridiculous Decree, stating that it was against the best interests of the students' education to deprive them of their library, the woman had attempted to have a vast number of 'questionable' books removed, and burned.

Fearing that she would not receive approval for such a radical move, the woman had used her authoritative clout to force the Librarian to grant her access in the dead of night, but once Madam Pince realised what the crazed High Inquisitor was intending to do, it had turned ugly. Afterwards, no one could believe that the quiet, bookish librarian would be capable of such damage, and everyone had been surprised to discover that it had been Peeves who had raised the alarm. Pictures of the fiercely protective librarian, who did not escape unscathed, as well as images of a few unfortunate books that Umbridge had managed to mangle beyond recognition were 'leaked' to the tabloids, with the _Quibbler _gleefully running another cover story. Parents, in reaction, had flooded the Ministry, and the school, with letters of complaint, and Umbridge had been issued with an official warning.

"But she's gotten an official warning," said John quietly. "Isn't that enough? Do you really want to ruin her life?"

"Come on, John, running her out of this school is hardly ruining her life! She has no love of being here, other than to make people miserable," said Estella. "She can go back and rot in her job in the Minister's office for all I care, and good riddance! I can't believe you're actually being sympathetic, John… you've _seen_ the effects of the Cursed Quills she's been using in detentions, and you know the rumours about the Veritaserum; not to mention the stuff she's been saying about my Dad and other people who are bloody fantastic wizards… all of that came about before we started on her too. She has no excuse."

"I suppose you're right," said John resignedly, book-marking his page and beginning to clear away his things.

"I _know_ I'm right," said Estella jokingly, following John's lead after a quick glance at the clock reminded her that they would be late for their DA meeting if they didn't chivvy along.

It was the last DA meeting before the Easter holidays, and they had finally started working on the Patronus Charm. Everybody had been very keen to practice all term, though, as Harry kept reminding them, producing a Patronus in the middle of a brightly lit classroom when they were not under threat was very different from producing it when confronted with something like a Dementor.

"Oh, don't be such a killjoy," said Cho brightly, watching her silvery swan-shaped Patronus soar around the Room of Requirement. "They're so pretty!"

"They're not supposed to be pretty, they're supposed to protect you," said Harry patiently. When Harry had realised that all Cho had wanted him for was to be seen at his side and to talk about Cedric's death, he had quite pointedly rejected the girl's advances. Of course, Estella knew there was much more to the boy's reasoning than Cho's motives, but she wasn't about to push Harry into something he may not be ready for. Unsurprisingly, Cho had been indifferent to the news and, within the week, was seen to be actively pursuing the Head Boy.

Harry ran a hand through his hair. "What we really need is a Boggart or something; that's how I learned, had to conjure a Patronus while the Boggart was pretending to be a Dementor-"

"But that would be really scary!" said Lavender, who was shooting puffs of silver vapour out of the end of her wand. "And I still – can't – do it!" she added angrily.

Neville was having trouble, too. His face was screwed up in concentration, but only feeble wisps of silver smoke issued from his wand tip.

"You've got to think of something happy," Harry reminded him.

"I'm trying," said Neville miserably, who was trying so hard his round face was actually shining with sweat.

"Harry, I think I'm doing it!" yelled Seamus, who had been brought along to his first ever DA meeting by Dean. "Look – ah – it's gone… but it was definitely something hairy, Harry!"

Hermione's Patronus, a shining silver otter, was gambolling around her.

"They _are_ sort of nice, aren't they?" she said, looking at it fondly.

Across from the awe-struck Gryffindor, Estella was scowling at her pathetic wisp of smoke in disgust. Everyone close to her – namely Harry – expected her to do well in the DA exercises because she had a former Defence teacher for a godfather and a current one being a dutiful uncle by giving her extra lessons; but she couldn't very well tell any of them that what her uncle was teaching her now was from books that put the Restricted Section to shame.

It had taken some convincing on Estella's part to convince her uncle to move away from the curriculum he would have otherwise been teaching all of the students in mainstream classes. She had argued that she was keeping up with those core defence methods through her involvement in the DA; which covered material a year ahead of her. When her uncle finally conceded to teach her a few 'practical' Dark spells, so that she may better understand how to defend against them, he had sworn her to secrecy. Learning the Unforgivables was standard for Aurors-in-training, but a social faux pas when applied to a child. Estella had been reluctant, but as Severus had explained to her, if she could successfully inflict the Cruciatus Curse on someone she cared for, then she would have no problems using it to its full extent upon an enemy. The implication that Estella may find herself in a situation in which she would cast an illegal Unforgivable upon another wizard sent shivers down her spine, but her uncle assured her that sometimes it was necessary to fight 'fire with fire'.

Shaking the memory, then, of her uncle writhing in the throes of her own Cruciatus, Estella tried to focus again on the task at hand. Ever since she had heard an inkling a few weeks previously that Patronuses would form the basis of the April meeting, Estella had _begged_ her uncle to give her a run through. The man had refused, however, and Estella duly suspected that it was because her uncle could not, himself, conjure a corporeal Patronus.

'_Damn it, Black,_' she chastised herself. '_Happy thoughts!_'

As many 'happy thoughts' Estella had in her life to choose from, almost all of them were associated with something bad. Fond memories with her uncle were tainted by the recent images burned in her mind; touching moments with her father marred by her imaginings of what he'd been through all those years in Azkaban; her incredible closeness with Harry haunted by the events of the graveyard, when she'd almost lost him; and the bond with her godfather was habitually overshadowed by the anguish she felt each month when he transformed and she was unable to do anything about it.

'_Stop it, you pessimistic, self-effacing, pitiful excuse of a witch,' _she berated herself heatedly, trying vainly to concentrate on her breathing and clear her mind. She was determined to see the spell through, no matter the cost, and it was just unfortunate that her increasing frustration at each failure only served to set her back further.

Noticing the girl he loved as a sister struggle with the spell, the look on her face belying an inner-conflict, Harry began to cross the room and head towards her. But before he could impart encouraging words upon her, the door of the Room of Requirement opened, and closed. Ever observant, Estella looked over Harry's shoulder to see who had entered, but there did not seem to be anybody there. It was a few moments before both she and Harry realised that the people close to the door had fallen silent. Next thing she knew, something was tugging at Harry's robes somewhere near the knee, standing right in front of her. Recognising the Malfoy's old house-elf, Dobby, immediately, she exchanged a worried look with Harry, who cleared his throat.

"Hi, Dobby!" he said. "What are you – What's wrong?"

The elf's eyes were wide with terror and he was shaking. The members of the DA closest to Harry had fallen silent; everybody in the room was watching Dobby. The few Patronuses people had managed to conjure faded away into silver mist, leaving the room looking much darker than before.

"Harry Potter, sir…" squeaked the elf, trembling from head to foot, "Harry Potter, sir… Dobby has come to warn you… but the house-elves have been warned not to tell…"

He ran head-first at the wall. Harry, who had some experience of Dobby's habits of self-punishment, made to seize him, but Dobby merely bounced off the stone, cushioned by his eight hats. Hermione and a few of the other girls let out squeaks of fear and sympathy.

"What's happened, Dobby?" Harry asked, grabbing the elf's tiny arm and holding him away from anything with which he might seek to hurt himself.

"Harry Potter… she… she…"

Dobby hit himself hard on the nose with his free fist. Harry seized that, too.

"Who's 'she', Dobby?" asked Harry with mounting dread. "Umbridge?"

Dobby nodded, then tried to bang his head on Harry's knees. Harry held him at arm's length.

"What about her? Dobby - she hasn't found out about this – about us – about the DA?"

"Dobby has been watching Draco Malfoy like Harry Potter asked, Harry Potter, sir," said Dobby, a stricken look on his face. "Dobby is seeing what Dobby's former young master is telling the High Inquisitor."

His hands held fast by Harry, the elf tried to kick himself and fell to the floor.

"Is she coming?" Harry asked quietly.

Dobby let out a howl, and began beating his bare feet hard on the floor.

"Yes, Harry Potter, yes!"

Harry straightened up and looked around at the motionless, terrified people gazing at the thrashing elf.

"WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?" Harry bellowed. "RUN!"

They all pelted towards the exit at once, forming a scrum at the door, but before anyone could get the door opened, Estella screamed for their attention.

"NO!" she called out, "WAIT!"

Just over two dozen heads swivelled to look at her in disbelief. Closing her eyes, she tilted her head upwards and mouthed one word.

"Fawkes," she whispered, calling the Phoenix to her.

Eyes widened in surprise as a brilliant flame of magical fire flashed into the headmaster's coveted Familiar. After whispering a few words to the solemn-looking bird, Estella gestured for the DA to crowd around.

"Everyone, hold hands! Fawkes will take all of you to a place where you can Floo directly into the offices of your respective Head of House," she instructed, physically going around and joining people's hands as they continued to stare at her as though she was daft. Wrenching two people's hands together jerkily, she sighed in exasperation. "Think of it like one big Side-Apparation… just trust me, okay?"

"But you can't Apparate from within Hogwarts!" said Zacharias Smith haughtily.

"Well you're quite welcome to try your chances in the hallway," said Estella bitingly. Several people, who had logically approximated that Fawkes was some kind of exception to this rule – given the had just appeared in front of them, from out of nowhere after all – glared at Smith as though he were a simpleton.

"Hate to be a pooper, Estella, but the Floo Network is being monitored," said John quietly.

"Precisely…" said Estella, grinning. "The Floo _Network_;" she shook her head at the stares she got. "This Floo isn't exactly _on_ any _Network_," she assured them. "It's connections aren't fixed, much like how the staircases here change direction at will…"

"All right, all right," said Harry, taking charge, "we don't have _time_ for this, people! Come on! HOLD HANDS!"

At Harry's roar, everyone quickly grabbed a hold of somebody else, forming a circle around the bird, by which Harry and John stood either side.

"C'mon, Estella, get out of the centre…" said Reg, letting go of the hand next to him and making a space for her.

Estella shook her head.

"I'm staying," she said. Around them, the room began to change, the full-stocked classroom morphing into an empty chamber with nothing but a piano and stool in the middle of it. Estella winked and cracked her knuckles. "Decoy," she explained.

Catching on, the DA tightened their hold on each other, all eyes falling to Fawkes, who was waiting patiently. At her nod, the Phoenix let out a shrill note and vanished, a ring of fire flashing in the place where her classmates had once stood before dissipating entirely, leaving no trace.

Turning to head over to the piano, Estella noticed Dobby standing by the door, looking a little bewildered by what he had just witnessed. Scooping up the house-elf, who upon being noticed resumed his attempts at self-harm, Estella squatted down to the elf's level and looked it directly in the eye.

"Dobby – this is an order – get back down to the kitchen with the other elves and, if she asks you whether you warned Harry, lie and say no!" said Estella. "And I forbid you to hurt yourself!"

"Thank you, Harry Potter's friend!" squeaked Dobby, and he stepped back before disappearing with a _'pop!_'.

Estella had just settled herself on the piano stool when a head popped in through the door. "Hey, Inquisitor – INQUISITOR! I've got one!" said Draco Malfoy, not noticing just who he had 'got' until it was too late. "Wait… Estella?"

"Hello, Draco," said Estella, looking up from her sheet music nonchalantly. She was still smiling serenely as a flustered High Inquisitor barrelled into the room, out of breath. "Why good evening, Inquisitor Umbridge, what a _pleasant_ surprise. I do hope I have not broken curfew – I do so lose track of the time."

"What is the meaning of this?" said Umbridge taking in the scene before her. "Malfoy, where are the others? What is going on here?"

"I was just practicing the piano, Inquisitor," said Estella, her fingers running up the ivories, playing scales, in emphasis. She had only _just_ started practicing the piano, but the woman didn't need to know that tiny insignificant detail.

"Oh that's a likely story," sneered Umbridge in disbelief. "Do not lie to me, you insolent child! Not when I have it on good authority that there has been an illegal organisation in convention here this evening!"

Estella shot Draco an apologetic look that pointedly said that she was not about to rat out her friends, and stood firm.

"I'm sorry to say that you are mistaken, Ma'am," said Estella, sounding anything _but_ contrite. "Perhaps you have mistaken the day, or the time? I haven't come across any _illegal_ organisations this evening."

Indeed, from a certain point of view, the DA was neither illegal, nor particularly organised. She allowed a small smirk to grace her features, knowing it would drive the vindictive woman mad, especially since she could not prove anything. Steadily winning a staring competition with the woman, Estella could only silently finger Muggle composer _John Williams'_ infamous Darth Vader reverie on the keys, a look of smug satisfaction on her face.

Giving up, the vile woman glared at Draco, who in turn glared at Estella, and began barking orders.

"Hop along and see if you can round up any more of them, Draco," she said, giving Estella a sidelong look. "Tell the others to look in the library – anybody out of breath – check the bathrooms, Miss Parkinson can do the girls' ones – off you go – and you," she added in her softest, most dangerous voice, as Malfoy walked away, "if you are truly musically inclined, you would not mind playing something for me, then."

"I thought you'd _never_ ask," said Estella, grinning widely, as she began to pound out the foreboding da-da-dum-da-de-dum-da-de-dum of one of Star Wars' most memorable refrains.

"Stop!" Umbridge shrieked after a few moments. "_That_ is not music! You are making up offensive nonsense, putting shame to the fine wizard that crafted such a beautiful instrument! I've a right mind to march you up to the Headmaster's office and have you cited for desecration of school property!"

"Well I apologise if my musical tastes are a little more, _inspired_," said Estella, congratulating herself on her veiled insult. "By all means, if you have a particular piece you would care for me to prove myself to you with, name it and if I know it I will endeavour to give it a go-"

"Bach," said Umbridge instantly, with a sneer. "The Goldberg Variations."

"The Aria, or do you have a preferred movement?" said Estella instantly, positioning her fingers accordingly, the music – thanks to their being in the Room of Requirement – appearing on the stand before her.

After making her way through the Aria, Umbridge had to fight herself to not look impressed. Schooling her permanent leer back on her features, she closed the lid on the piano closed, narrowly missing Estella's fingers, and leant against the modest upright, intend on physically dominating the seated girl.

"Smart, Black, very smart," said Umbridge. "A commendable ruse, but I trust my sources. Where are they?"

"Where are who, miss?" said Estella innocently, unable to hide the knowing look on her face. It was so fun to tease the woman when she had absolutely no proof to act upon anything.

"The DA MEMBERS, you cheeky child!" said Umbridge, spittle dotting her chin as a vein began to bulge out of her neck. Jabbing a finger into Estella's shoulder repeatedly, she growled; "you – will – tell – me!"

"Tell you what?" said Estella, as dimly as she could muster.

"WHERE THE DA MEMBERS ARE!" screamed Umbridge.

"I'm sorry, Inquisitor, but I don't take Divination," said Estella flatly. "I don't understand how you expect me to tell you where anyone is, when they are not in this very room with us. I can't See any better than you can, Ma'am."

This game of taking every word the woman said entirely literally was proving to be rather amusing. Estella surmised that she could keep it up all night if she was so inclined. On some level, she even began to appreciate the buzz her father spoke of getting when 'walking the wand tip' between right and wrong as a student. Umbridge, however, did not appear to be handling it so well. In any normal circumstances, Estella ought to have been terrified of the woman, but given that Fawkes was hardly a nano-thought away and the School wards had been modified to protect, amongst others, her specifically, she knew that the woman could not do her any real harm.

"ENOUGH, of the games, Miss Black!" said Umbridge impatiently, realising that she was not going to be able to extract any information from the child without assistance. She seized her arm in a vice-like grip and pulled her up, dragging her towards the door. "You can come with me to the Headmaster's office, Black. We'll see how long you can hold out for your friends in the presence of the Minister and your Headmaster."

"Oh _goodie_," Estella said with unbridled enthusiasm. Inspecting the nails of her free hand, non-plussed, she radiated calm. "Girl like me could do with a little _colour_ in her day… though I do wish you would refrain from manhandling me, Inquisitor. There really is no need for violence, unless you make a habit of venting your frustrations on small children…"

Umbridge did not respond, except to squeeze Estella's arm a little tighter and quicken her pace, Estella forced to follow at a brisk trot, lest the furious woman pull her arm out of her socket. Dumbledore's office was full of people. The man himself was sitting behind his desk, his expression serene, the tips of his long fingers together. Professor McGonagall stood rigidly beside him, her face extremely tense. Rufus Scrimgeour, Minister for Magic, was rocking backwards and forwards on his toes beside the fire, not looking particularly pleased with the situation – it being an established fact that he had posted Umbridge at the school only to get her out of his hair. Kingsley Shacklebolt, one of the first Order members to receive Estella into the fold was standing on one side of the door with a tough-looking wizard with very short wiry hair Estella did not know on the other. Then, by the wall, the freckled, bespectacled form of Percy Weasley hovered excitedly beside the wall, a quill and a heavy scroll of parchment in his hands, apparently poised to take notes.

"Hello, _Percival_," said Estella caustically, suddenly glad that she had decided to wear her Weasley jumper that evening. Jumping slightly at being addressed, the former Hogwarts Head Boy opened and shut his mouth a few times before settling for a glare, his eyes doubling back and fixating on the tell-tale sign of his mother's handiwork.

The portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses were not shamming sleep tonight. All of them were alert and serious, watching what was happening below them. As Estella entered, a few flittered into neighbouring frames and whispered urgently into their neighbour's ear. Out to put on a good show, the attentive Ravenclaw then began to address the Portraits, greeting each former authoritative figure with polite reverence; it was enough to get all the portraits on side. _Never_, some of them griped, did visitors to the office pay them a second glance. When Estella got to the figure of her great-great-great grandfather, she smirked and winked at the amused Slytherin, the man settling back in his canvas to enjoy, what experience told him, would be a highly entertaining evening.

"Well," said Scrimgeour awkwardly, avoiding Umbridge's beady glare as he forced himself to feign interest in this ridiculous call-out. "Well, well, well…"

'…_is a hole in the ground where water is found_,' said Estella to herself in a sing-song voice. Anyone looking at her at that moment would have been amused by the look on her face – her fixtures fixed somewhere between wanting to burst out laughing and keeping a straight face.

"She was 'alone' in the designated meeting place," said Umbridge. There was an indecent excitement in her voice. "The Malfoy boy cornered her."

"Did he, did he?" said Scrimgeour indifferently. "Well, Miss Black… I expect you know why you are here?"

Estella listened on, half expecting the man to complete his sentence with '_because I don't_'. She was about to answer when she caught sight of Dumbledore's face. Dumbledore was not looking directly at Estella – his eyes were fixed on a point just over her shoulder – but as Estella stared at him, he shook his head a fraction of an inch to each side.

Estella changed direction mid-word.

"Ye-_no_."

"I beg your pardon?" said Scrimgeour.

"No," said Estella, firmly.

"You _don't_ know why you are here?"

"No, I don't," said Estella, not about to give an inch.

Scrimgeour looked incredulously from Estella to Umbridge. Estella took advantage of his momentary inattention to steal another quick look at Dumbledore, who gave the carpet the tiniest of nods and the shadow of a wink. The corner of Estella's lip twitched in response, but she held firm.

"So you have no idea," said Scrimgeour, in a voice positively sagging with boredom, "why Inquisitor Umbridge has brought you to this office? You are not aware that you have broken any school rules?"

"School rules?" said Estella vaguely. "No."

"Or Ministry Decrees?" amended Umbridge angrily.

"Not that I'm aware of," said Estella blandly.

"So it's news to you, is it," said Scrimgeour, his voice now thick with anger, "that an illegal student organisation has been discovered within this school?"

"Yes, it is," said Estella confidently, knowing full well that none of the other Order members would have been caught anywhere they shouldn't have been.

"I think, Minister," said Umbridge silkily from beside him, "we might make better progress if I fetch our informant."

"Yes, yes I do," said Scrimgeour, nodding, and he glanced apologetically at Dumbledore as Umbridge left the room. "There was a witness, Albus, I had to follow it up-"

"Quite right, Rufus, quite right," said Dumbledore gravely, there being no love lost between the two men.

There was a wait of several minutes, in which nobody looked at each other, then Estella heard the door open behind her. Umbridge moved past her into the room, gripping by the shoulder Cho's curly-haired friend, Marietta, who was hiding her face in her hands.

"Don't be scared, dear, don't be frightened," said Professor Umbridge softly, patting her on the back, "it's quite all right, now. You have done the right thing. The Minister is very pleased with you. He'll be telling your mother what a good girl you've been. Marietta's mother, Minister," she added, looking up at Scrimgeor, "is Madam Edgecombe from the Department of Magical Transportation, Floo Network office – she's been helping us police the Hogwarts fires, you know."

'And doing such a piss-poor job of it, too,' sneered Estella inwardly, her eyebrows shooting beyond her hairline at how the woman was positively infantilising the snivelling Ravenclaw traitor. "Jolly good, jolly good!" said Scrimgeour without conviction. "Like mother, like daughter, eh? Well, come on, now, dear, look up, don't be shy, let's hear what you've got to – galloping gargoyles!" As Marietta raised her head, Scrimgeour leapt backwards in shock, nearly landing himself in the fire. He cursed, and stamped on the hem of his cloak which had started to smoke. Marietta gave a wail and pulled back the neck of her robes right up to her eyes, but not before everyone had seen that her face was horribly disfigured by a series of close-set purple pustules that had spread across her nose and cheeks to form the word 'SNEAK'. Remembering, then, a discussion from long ago that had seen Estella and Hermione holed up in a Muggle ice cream parlour, talking about the teenaged Muggle server that Hermione had gone to grade school with and how he had not always been afflicted with acne, Estella had to stop and marvel at the older Gryffindor's handiwork. For Hermione Granger to have inflicted such a serious case of acne onto someone really went to show her vindictive side. Estella had an inkling that this was no short-term jinx.

"Never mind the spots now, dear," said Umbridge impatiently, "just take your robes away from your mouth and tell the Minister - "

But Marietta gave another muffled wail and shook her head frantically.

"Oh, very well, you silly girl, I'll tell him," snapped Umbridge. She hitched her sickly smile back on to her face and said, "Well, Minister, Miss Edgecombe here came to my office shortly after dinner this evening and told me she had something she wanted to tell me. She said that if I proceeded to a secret room on the seventh floor, sometimes known as the Room of Requirement, I would find out something to my advantage. I questioned her a little further and she admitted that there was to be some kind of meeting there. Unfortunately, at that point this hex," she waved impatiently at Marietta's concealed face, "came into operation and upon catching sight of her face in my mirror the girl became too distressed to tell me any more."

"Well, now," said Scrimgeour, fixing Marietta with what he evidently imagined was a kind and fatherly look, "it is very brave of you, my dear, coming to tell Professor Umbridge. You did exactly the right thing. Now, will you tell me what happened at this meeting? What was its purpose? Who was there?"

But Marietta would not speak; she merely shook her head again, her eyes wide and fearful. Estella didn't know if it was a fear of more words spelling themselves out on her face, the poisonous looks she was giving the pathetic excuse of a DA member, or a combination of both, but Marietta was no longer talking.

"Haven't we got a counter-jinx for this?" Scrimgeour asked Umbridge impatiently, gesturing at Marietta's face. "So she can speak freely?"

"I have not yet managed to find one," Umbridge admitted grudgingly, and Estella had to fight the smug look from her face, and the whoop of prideful joy on behalf of Hermione's jinxing ability. Not that it was really saying a lot, though, when Umbridge probably couldn't find a snowflake in a blizzard. The malicious woman went on. "But it doesn't matter if she won't speak, I can take the story from here. You will remember, Minister, that I sent you a report back in October that Potter had met a number of fellow students in the Hog's Head in Hogsmeade, and that Black was among them - " she smiled victoriously in Estella's direction and went on "- the purpose of this meeting with the students," continued Umbridge, "was to persuade them to join an illegal society, whose aim was to learn spells and curses the Ministry has decided are inappropriate for school-age -"

"I think you will find you're wrong there, Dolores," said Dumbledore quietly, peering at her over the half-moon spectacles perched halfway down his crooked nose. "If you remember, the Ministry Decree banning all student societies was not put into effect until two days after Harry's Hogsmeade meeting, so he was not breaking any rules at all in the Hog's Head."

Estella had to cough loudly to cover up the barely repressed whoop of joy that worked its way from her traitorous lips. Had she her way entirely, she would have punched the air with a fist and danced a little jig around the toad-faced woman, chanting '_in your face!_'; so all things considered, Estella was proud of her restraint.

Like a clever fox pouncing for the kill, Umbridge then attempted to draw light on Harry's group having convened several times over the course of the past six months since the relevant Decree banning such congregations was introduced. When, however, a repentant Marietta would not back her up with the evidence she so sorely needed, the woman quickly lost her temper.

"_Why are you shaking your head, girl_?" she snapped at the girl furiously.

"Well, usually when a person shakes their head," said McGonagall coldly, "they mean 'no'. So unless Miss Edgecombe is using a form of sign-language as yet unknown to humans-"

Estella's fist actually twitched this time, as she fought the urge to punch the air and applaud the Deputy Headmistress' wit. In front of her, Umbridge seized Marietta, pulled her round to face her and began shaking her very hard. A split second later Dumbledore was on his feet, his wand raised; Kingsley started forwards and Umbridge leapt back from Marietta, waving her hands in the air as though they had been burned. It had taken all of Estella's resolve to ignore her imprinted instincts and stand back, allowing the adults to handle the situation. Her wand had been slipped from her wrist holster and into her hand in time with Dumbledore's reaction, but having caught the older man's movement from where she stood, she knew that it was safe.

"I cannot allow you to manhandle my students, Dolores," said Dumbledore and, for the first time, he looked angry.

"You'll want to calm yourself, Madam Umbridge," said Kingsley, in his deep, slow voice. "You don't want to get yourself into trouble, now."

Umbridge was halfway through a breathless retraction when Estella spoke up, rubbing her arm as she did so. Glancing from the Minister to Kingsley, the opportunity to rid the school of Umbridge once and for all presented itself, and Estella grabbed it with both hands.

"It's a bit late for that now, I think," she said clearly, rolling up her sleeve to expose the ugly black mark of a handprint, neatly imprinted around her arm. "You all saw how she _dragged _me in here – she had me in such a grip all the way from the other end of the school! _And_ after I had repeatedly assured her that I would willingly come with her to your office, Headmaster, and asked her to let me go – I'll show you my memory, if you want, and you know they can't be tampered with!"

"That mark could have already been on her arm!" said Umbridge in defence, though her argument was feeble and she knew it.

"An exact approximation of your hand, Madam?" said Kingsley in a dangerously low tone, having instantly sidled up alongside Estella and inspected her bruises with an analytical eye. "Aurors are trained in the basics of forensics, Minister, and I can assure you that this bruise is fresh. It would have taken a considerable, persistent force to do this much soft tissue damage so quickly. I think I would like to see that memory, Estella-"

Led to Dumbledore's Pensieve by Professor McGonagall, Estella extracted the memory of her encounter with Umbridge, revealing it to the adults from start to finish.

"I daresay, Dolores, that this is a rather disturbing scene," said Scrimgeour, looking scandalous for having placed such a volatile woman at the school. "Do you have an explanation?"

"She was _hiding_ something from me!" she raved manically, pulling a long sheet of parchment and waving it around. "Can't you see? She's covering for them! I have the list right here! It's proof, you see!"

Quick as a flash, before anyone could read anything off the DA's Charter, Estella leapt forward and attempted to wrestle the paper free from the woman's grasp; the mere instance of her contact with the parchment and a specifically timed deliverance of a non-verbal password, efficiently wiping the parchment clean of all evidence.

"Let me see that!" she said insolently, "you _drag_ me away from my piano and keep me up past curfew… I deserve a look at your so-called _evidence_!"

Wrenching the paper away from the girl, who placidly stepped back, her job finished, Umbridge unscrewed the parchment scrunched in her hand and held it out for all to see. Pointing, then, to a name that was not there, the woman jabbed that finger at the paper and convinced all who were not already sold on the idea, that she was emotionally unstable.

"There! See! There's your name! It's right there! Don't deny it!" she said viciously, a maniacal leer on her face as she thought she had just won.

"See _what_?" said McGonagall plainly, but not before exchanging a knowing look with Estella. "You're holding up a blank piece of parchment, woman!"

"No I'm no-" said Umbridge, shaking the parchment in emphasis, as though it would make the words stand out more, her voice cutting off when she realised that the page was, indeed, blank. "It's _jinxed_! Like that girl's face! Explain that, then! Why would a jinx take effect just as she was telling me about the group?"

"Perhaps a classmate had jinxed her to suffer the consequences if she _lied_?" suggested Estella hypothetically. "I didn't see her break out in any more spots when she took back her words, after all."

"The girl's right, that is entirely more plausible," said McGonagall, "or would you persist with your fixation and care to test the parchment for invisible inks?"

"YES!" said Umbridge enthusiastically, slamming the paper down on the desk in front of Dumbledore and commanding him to check it. When Dumbledore, McGonagall, Shacklebolt or, as she discovered his name, Dawlish collectively concluded that the sheet of parchment was nothing more than a piece of paper charmed to issue comments to those who interacted with it, Umbridge screamed in frustration and attempted to set fire to the page. When the fire rebounded off the paper and landed itself, instead, on the hems of Umbridge's robes, Estella exploited the woman's moment of distraction by taking the time to grin madly at the woman's back and rub her hands together in glee. Estella couldn't take any of the credit, however, since the counter-measures on the parchment had entirely been of Marauder-design, the process dutifully recorded by her studious godfather and submitted to an out-of-print Zonko's magazine nearly twenty years previously.

This latest performance, coupled with the carefully recorded appraisals McGonagall had been meticulously keeping and the tabloid evidence, was enough to spell an end to Umbridge's career as High Inquisitor. It was a satisfying moment, over six months in the making, when Dolores Jane Umbridge was ceremoniously stripped of her title and quite forcibly removed from the school by the two Aurors. Estella could only nod solemnly as Scrimgeour apologised to her profusely, it now being apparent to him that the woman he had entrusted to watch over the students of Hogwarts, had a somewhat unhealthy fixation on both Estella and Harry. Thinking of the ugly scars that had been forever carved into the back of Harry's hand, Estella informed the Minister gravely that Harry – and in fact several other students – may have additional charges to lay against the woman, she promised to invite Harry to do so at his own discretion; staying behind after McGonagall led Marietta Edgecombe to the Hospital Wing and the Aurors had left with Umbridge.

"Minister," she broached cautiously, genuine nerves allowing themselves to be known. "I am not sure if you are aware, but it was Ms Umbridge's recommendation that stripped my father of his parental rights and effectively turned him back into a fugitive. I cannot stress enough how unfounded her accusations have been - "

"Ah, yes," said Scrimgeour primly, chafing at the realisation that the Ministry had again short-changed one Sirius Black – this time on his own watch. "I had been somewhat misinformed of your father's psychological state…" he racked his brains "…however, if my memory serves me correctly, it was not just Ms Umbridge who made claims - "

"If it's about the scene in Diagon Alley-" said Estella defensively, only to be cut off by the Minister.

"Relax, child, I am not an unreasonable man," said Scrimgeour in that recognisable paternal tone that, when directed at her, made Estella want to gag. Thinking of all the people who were currently being held at the Ministry under suspicion of being a Death Eater, Estella could only beg to differ, but she was not about to confront the man on his other shortcomings, lest he go on the defensive. The man rubbed a hand over his face in thought and continued. "I cannot entirely disregard the accusations, but if you can secure me the character references of three people who, upon investigation, can be shown to have no measure of dependence or bias towards your father, then I think we can avoid the trauma of a committal hearing, don't you? There are, after all, so many other things that our courts need to be concerning themselves with, wouldn't you agree?"

Estella nodded enthusiastically, and vowed to have the appropriate testimonials on his desk before dawn. She already knew who she would pick, and just to be safe, she'd pick more than three.

* * *

The following morning, a special edition of the _Daily Prophet_ had been issued, an official statement from the Minister expressing his apologies to all the students and parents of Hogwarts; the article detailing the specifics of Umbridge's derangement and removal from the school. As it was formally decreed that all existing Educational Decrees as instated by the ousted High Inquisitor were henceforth rendered null and void, an unbridled cheer broke out in the Great Hall, rapturous joy resonating throughout the castle's walls in what felt like the first time since Voldemort's return.

News on the Hogwarts grapevine, as usual, travelled at a dizzying pace. Absolutely nothing was sacred, and by lunch time, everyone had known what had transpired in the headmaster's office after the DA meeting was busted up. Of the three housemasters with DA students amongst their alumni, only Professor Flitwick was in his office. Needless to say, the vertically challenged Ravenclaw was rather surprised to have several students tumble out of his private fireplace without warning, but upon hearing the word 'Umbridge', he humoured them. In turn, Estella was revered as a modern-day heroine, younger students milling around her, asking to see her arm, most all sporting strategically placed black armbands that, they explained, simulated her 'battle wound'.

Estella, in turn, was a little disturbed by all the sudden attention. Younger students looking up to her whilst the older students took the time to slap her on the back was something she was entirely unfamiliar with. How she had managed to go from being an outcast in primary school to something of a celebrated and respected hero at Hogwarts was a dizzying transition, even though it had not happened over night. Keeping to the people she knew were her 'real' friends, Estella could not help but to identify with Harry, and the struggles he had faced since day one at the school.

"I don't know how you do it," said Estella, flopping down next to Harry on the second-last day before the Easter holidays. "Thank goodness the holidays are coming up – hopefully the hysteria will die down… hey, Harry, are you all right?"

"Yeah," said Harry listlessly, doodling on the edge of his parchment with his quill. "Just not looking forward to Occlumency tonight."

"Well have you been practicing?" asked Estella.

Harry scowled, the tension in his body transferring itself to his nib, which stabbed through the page.

"I _would_ practice, if I knew _how_ to!" snapped Harry, immediately apologising to Estella and confiding in her the course of his typical Occlumency lesson.

"Bloody hell," said Estella, frowning, "I knew he wouldn't be easy on you, but I had no idea-"

Her voice trailed off as she recalled a conversation with her uncle about his loyalties. He was loyal only to her, he had assured her, unwilling to elaborate any further. The implication that he was then deliberately hindering Harry's attempt to learn Occlumency both shocked and disturbed her. Surely it would be in _her_ best interests for Harry to learn Occlumency so that he might be better placed to defeat the Dark Wizard that more or less wanted Estella dead. Surely her uncle had heart enough to look out for a _child_… if not, then why'd he save Harry all those times?

'_To score points_,' an all too clever voice said inside her head. Her frown deepened, and she forced herself to push her doubts about her uncle's intentions asides. He had vowed to always be there for her, and would do anything to that end, so wasn't that enough?

"I'm coming with you tonight," she said decisively, thinking that if she could observe her uncle at work she would know what to have the man change _in her best interests_. "Where's your Invisibility Cloak?"

"I can't have you do that," said Harry solemnly, "your uncle would go ape if he found out you went behind his back like that; I don't want to come between you."

"If he goes ape," said Estella with a grim look of determination on her face, "I'll turn his favourite cauldron into a banana. I'm coming with, and that's that."

An Invisibility Cloak and Notice-me-Not Charm later, and Estella found herself following Harry to her uncle's dungeon office later that evening.

"You're late, Potter," she heard her uncle say coldly, as Harry closed the door behind her, a subtle brush of his hand against the invisible fabric assuring him that she had followed him in.

Severus was standing with his back to them, removing, as Estella understood to be as usual, certain of his thoughts and placing them carefully in Dumbledore's Pensieve. He dropped the last silvery strand into the stone basin and turned to face the only student he could see in the room.

"So," he said. "Have you been practicing?"

"Yes," Harry lied, looking carefully at one of the legs of Snape's desk and moving into his usual position, ignoring the slight jab Estella gave him for his dishonesty. She then stood aside, by a shelf on the wall, and watched as the two wizards stood in front of her, facing each other and separated only by a desk between them.

"On the count of three then," said Snape lazily. "One – two – LEGILIMENS!"

Estella leapt back at the force with which her uncle had thrown the spell at Harry, her eyes widening in shock as the boy in its path staggered back and fell to his knees, unable to repel the attack. Chewing on her bottom lip to stop herself from calling out, she watched silently as Harry desperately tried to push her uncle out of his mind, sweat already beginning to dot his brow with the futile effort.

"Clear your mind, Potter!" Estella heard her uncle sneer at Harry with loathing, lowering his wand slightly. "Get up! Again!"

No sooner had Harry gotten to his feet and pushed the bridge of his glasses up his sweaty nose did Estella see her uncle fire the spell again, with equal force.

"Again!" the man snap, motioning with his wand in sharp jerky movements for the boy to regain his feet.

Her uncle was mid-way through a barrage of insults when Estella had reached her limit. Gripping the edges of the Invisibility Cloak in barely controlled anger, she was just about to pull the fabric free and reveal herself when the office door banged open and Draco Malfoy sped in. Her anger replaced by surprise, Estella had to scramble not to be run into.

"Professor Snape, sir – oh – sorry - "

Draco was looking at her uncle and Harry in some surprise.

"It's all right, Draco," said Snape, lowering his wand. "Potter is here for a little remedial tutoring."

Estella didn't think she had seen Draco look so gleeful since the fleeting expression he had sported on his face when he had thought he'd just caught Harry and the DA red-handed.

"I didn't know," he said, leering at Harry.

"Well, Draco, what is it?" asked Severus.

"It's Mr Filch, sir – he needs your help," said Malfoy. "They've found Montague, sir, he's turned up jammed inside a toilet on the fourth floor, and the Bloody Baron is having a rage."

"How did he get in there?" demanded Snape. With a pool of dread settling in her stomach, Estella had a feeling she knew… Draco was on task with his mission to fix the Vanishing Cabinet, thus creating a portal between the school and Knockturn Alley. Glancing at her uncle before realising that the man could not possibly see her, she could only assure herself that he uncle was keeping Dumbledore informed of Draco's progress, such was his duty as an Order member.

"I don't know, sir, he's a bit confused," Draco had responded in the meantime.

"Very well, very well. Potter," said Severus, "we shall resume this lesson tomorrow evening."

He turned and swept from his office. Draco mouthed, '_Remedial Tutoring?_' at Harry behind his housemaster's back before following him. Estella flittered over towards the door, then, making sure they were gone, threw off the stuffy confines of the Cloak. Noticing then, that the curious Gryffindor was being held back by the patch of shivering light dancing on the doorframe, she cleared her throat. As the Boy-Who-Had-a-Death-Wish approached the innocuous looking Pensieve that was lit up with the swirling mists of her uncle's thoughts, she groaned. Before she could put words to her protest, the boy had stuck his head in the bowl without preamble, and Estella had no choice but to follow if she stood any chance of getting him out and _keeping_ him out.

Estella sighed sadly as she happened upon her uncle's first stored memory, of a fifth year DADA exam. In the peripheral of the memory's vision stood Harry, openly gaping as he stood over the desk of his teenaged father. Staying slightly behind the sad, yet excited, boy, she approached the familiar scene and smiled reminiscently as James went through the trademark motions of yawning nonchalantly and rumpling his hair, sending a cautious eye towards the supervising teacher before turning and grinning at another familiar face, four rows back. There, unsurprisingly, Estella could see her father give James a thumbs up as he lounged back in his chair, at ease. She bit back a laugh as her eyes caught a girl behind her father eying him hopefully, and her grin widened when she detected her godfather's teenaged presence two seats along from the girl. She was just about to approach Harry, when she suddenly found herself staring at… well… _herself_. There, alongside Remus, casually nodding her satisfaction at her work and shooting the teenaged boy an encouraging look, was Estella, in her Aries Ollerton disguise. A hand flying to her mouth, Estella was unable to muffle the squeak of surprise that wrenched itself from her throat.

"I _remember_ this!" she said excitedly, momentarily forgetting that Harry did not realise he had company in the Pensieve. Tugging on Harry's sleeve excitedly, she pointed herself out, bouncing up and down in excitement as feelings associated with the memories she had, in her grief, tried to consciously forget, came flooding back. "That's me… as Aries."

"You look kinda like Moony," said Harry, watching in amusement as the disguised girl in the memory and her future godfather chose that time to scratch their chins with their quills in identical mannerisms. "It's no wonder Padfoot tried to set you two up!"

Estella thumped him hard on the arm, before leading them out of the classroom, slightly behind the memory-forms of the Marauders.

"Did you like question ten, Moony?" asked Sirius as they emerged into the hallway and began to trace a path towards the nearest exit.

"Loved it," said Remus smugly.

"Of _course_ he did," snickered Estella, informing Harry of the question.

"D'you think you managed to get all the signs?" said James in tones of mock concern.

"I think _I_ did," said Aries (Estella), coming up alongside them and shooting them a knowing look. "One: he's sitting next to me in the exam. Two: he sticks his tongue out slightly when he's concentrating on an answer. Three: you don't want to get between him and chocolate-"

"Oh c'mon Ollerton, you've got it bad, admit it!" said Sirius, cutting her off. "Just snog him and get it over with, will you?"

"You'll regret saying that," scowled Aries cryptically, punching Sirius in the arm in much the same way her future self had just pulled Harry in line. Harry rubbed his arm again in sympathy and shot Estella an amused look.

"Don't _you_ start," she wagged a finger at him, pointing to where her past self stormed off towards the fringes of the memory and vanished, but not before coming up alongside a particular redhead. At Harry's wide eyes, her voice softened. "C'mon, I'll tell you later… I'm a little curious to see how the beginning of this panned out."

Estella refused to elaborate what she meant as they followed the Marauders out onto the grounds of the school, the four boys making a beeline for the shade of a familiar tree by the lake. When she noticed that Harry was constantly shooting glances at the memory-form of her uncle, who was following at a listless pace, the Slytherin too preoccupied in his exam paper to really know where he was going, Estella tugged his sleeve and assured him that her uncle wasn't taking this memory anywhere else anytime soon.

"How d'you know?" asked Harry.

"Because I was _there_, you idiot!" said Estella, as they began to watch James play with the Snitch under the shade of the beech tree, taking advantage of the unseasonably warm weather.

Remus had, by now, pulled out a book and was reading. Sirius stared around at the students milling over the grass, looking rather haughty and bored, but very handsomely so. Estella gave Harry a running commentary that explained to the fascinated boy how her father had started dating her mother at the beginning of that year and that he had subsequently attempted to try and make himself look good from afar, just in case she was within eyeshot.

James, meanwhile, was still playing with the Snitch, letting it zoom further and further away, almost escaping but always grabbed at the last second. Wormtail was watching him with his mouth open. Every time James made a particularly difficult catch, Wormtail gasped and applauded. After five minutes of this, Harry wondered why James didn't tell Wormtail to get a grip on himself, but as Estella promptly informed him, James unabashedly enjoyed the attention. Harry also noticed that his father had a habit of rumpling up his hair as though to keep it from getting too tidy, and he also kept looking over at the girls by the water's edge. Beside Harry, Estella rolled her eyes.

"Put that away, will you?" said Sirius finally, as James made a fine catch and Wormtail let out a cheer, "before Wormtail wets himself with excitement."

Wormtail turned slightly pink, but James grinned. In the present time, Estella whooped and Harry mirrored his father's grin almost flawlessly.

"If it bothers you," James said, stuffing the Snitch back in his pocket. Sirius was, as Estella shared her suspicions, probably the only person who James would stop showing off in front of.

"I'm bored," said Sirius.

"This'll liven you up, Padfoot," said James quietly. "Look who it is…"

Sirius' head turned. He became very still, like a dog that has scented a rabbit.

Excellent," he said softly. "_Snivellus_."

Estella stiffened, her eyes narrowing in contempt as the shape of her uncle approached them unknowingly. Behind her, James and Sirius had stood and passed through her, causing her to shiver. As the memory of the two lead Marauders leading an unprovoked attack on her uncle played itself out, Estella had to fight to keep reminding herself that her uncle and father had, for all intents and purposes, put the past behind them as much as possible.

Having never seen the exchange before, Harry was mortified; Estella supposed he was seeing a side to his dad that no one who knew him really liked to draw attention to, and she could only grasp his hand in understanding. Turning her eyes away from the torment the pair were putting the teenaged form of her uncle through, Estella took the opportunity to observe her godfather. The first time she had come across this moment, back in the past and in disguise, she had been far too preoccupied with trying not to hex somebody to really notice anything around her. Now she could truly study the look of discomfort on Remus' face as his friends ridiculed their classmate, Estella felt a wash of anger surge through her. Realising then, that her godfather probably felt as though he could not say anything, less he lose the acceptance of friends that, to him, were always few and far between, Estella suddenly found that she didn't know who to feel for more at that moment; her uncle or her godfather. For though it was inexcusable, the way James and her father were singling her uncle out, she knew that her uncle had given as good as he got whenever the backs of his foes had been turned. Remus, on the other hand, had not asked for his condition; he had not asked to be forever judged by something he could not control. Estella was torn.

"Why didn't you intervene?" Harry asked him suddenly. Looking over to him, Estella could see that his face was pale and drawn. Her ears still ringing from their other-worldly proximity to an infamous Potter – Evans screaming match, she supposed that the impassioned teenager's future son was feeling somewhat disheartened by his parents display of contempt towards each other.

"Because my uncle would not have appreciated it," said Estella stiffly, a familiar urge to protect her uncle catching her off-guard. Next to Lily, stood her former self, an easily recognisable look of barely-controlled anger clouding her disguised features. Remembering then, what had transpired after her uncle had left, she straightened. "My uncle valued self-reliance… I think it was a bigger blow to his psyche, being saved by a girl, than losing a battle to two armed opponents."

She looked at Harry, and saw that he was still looking a little lost. "Don't worry," she assured him, "your parents loved each other very much, it's all in my Mum's diary, remember? She couldn't believe either how they could be so mad for each other when they had spent so much time before then being mad _at_ each other. It's amazing what love can conquer… and y'know what I think? I reckon your parents had it bad for each other even then, except James was too self-assured for his own good and Lily put him in his place just to spite him."

The memory began to fade once Lily had stormed off, Severus having taken the opportunity during the future couple's argument to skulk away. Acting quickly, Estella placed her wand at her temple and removed a thought from her mind; the process of doing so whilst actually _in_ a Pensieve causing the pair to get caught up in the swirl of the enlarged mist and spun into a new memory. Finding themselves precisely where they left off, Estella pointed out to Harry that this was what had happened _after_ her uncle had left.

Two surprised Gryffindors found themselves up-ended by their ankles, a deceptively controlled Ravenclaw sporting an additional two wands in her non-wand hand.

"How do _you_ like it, huh?" Estella's 1970s alter ego, Aries Ollerton, was mad to the point of being deathly calm. "How about I remove _your_ pants, huh? See if you think that's so funny then!" she called over to the girls from the lake edge, who had since inched closer to the action. "What do you say, ladies? These boys are always so pointedly trying to get themselves in _our_ pants, are they not?" she narrowed her eyes at Sirius and added; "or trying to set us up with their friends…"

At the implied mention of Remus, both James and Sirius twisted their heads to try and catch a glimpse of their werewolf friend. Moony had, by now, given up all pretences of reading his book and was looking up with some interest.

"Don't look at me," he said, raising his hands innocently. "You _were_ asking for it, and far be it for me to cross a woman scorned."

"Ah, Remus, you've got it baaaaaad," Sirius drawled at his friend, rolling his eyes before setting the fourth marauder in his sights. "Oh _Peter_…"

Wormtail gave a squeak and covered his face with his hands, as though that would stop Aries from seeing him.

"Uh, Paddy, I don't think he'll help us," said James grimly, still managing to rumple his hair for his audience even though he was upside-down. "What are you going to do with us now, Ollerton?"

"Oh, I think everything you did to Snape'll suffice," said Aries coolly, "though you can pick a hex to skip, Potter, since he got you one in the face."

"Good, I'll ditch the Scourgify," said James with relief, smirking as his partner in crime scowled at him.

"You're playing with fire, Ollerton," Sirius warned. "Let me down now and I won't prank you too badly."

"You wouldn't," said Aries smugly, and Estella grinned at the memory. "Oh, unless you _want_ Selena to find out what you did to her brother-"

Sirius swore, and James laughed.

"Take it like a man, my friend," said James.

"Oh, that's rich," Sirius snorted, adopting a snivelling tone; "Mr 'good-I'll-ditch-the-Scourgify! Whatever happened to solidarity? I'd take a slice to the cheek to even the playing field before piking out -"

"Nice try, Sirius, but I don't particularly want to explain to your girlfriend why I had to carve up your face," said Aries levelly, not falling for Sirius' ruse.

But before Harry could see the rest of Estella's memory and see what her former self had done to exact revenge on her uncle's behalf, a hand had closed around each of their arms, swiftly pulling them from the stone basin.

Morbidly fascinated by her uncle's anger, Estella was, at the same time, increasingly scared by its intensity. After manhandling Harry and screaming at him to never divulge what he'd seen to any one, her uncle threw Harry from his office and rounded on her.

"WHAT DID YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING?" he yelled at her, closing the distance between them in an instant, and shaking her hard. "How _dare_ you? Did you have fun? Reliving the _good times_? Answer me!"

"How dare _you_!" Estella shot back, blinking away angry tears. "How dare you think that of me!"

"You go around _pranking_ a member of this staff, elevating yourself as a hero of the school _just like your father before you_," spat Severus bitterly. "You can't blame me for not knowing what to think anymore!"

Estella didn't warrant her uncle's poorly-drawn comparison with a comment, she was that insulted. Instead, she seethed.

"Well, glad I am not the only one not knowing what to think!" she snapped, "what the hell are you doing in these so-called Occlumency lessons?"

"I don't have to answer to you!" roared Severus, his knee-jerk reaction to finding the Boy-he-Loathed plundering his private thoughts colouring how he was now dealing with his niece.

"Well then neither do I!" said Estella, just as heatedly. It utterly crushed her heart to think that her uncle did not know her as well as she thought he did. Backing up against the Pensieve, she pulled out her wand and moved to retrieve her memory when a hand on her wrist stopped her. Glaring coldly at her uncle's furious expression, she relaxed her hand in his grip and he let go. "On second thoughts," she said scathingly. "I'll leave it… and you can see for yourself how hard I've always tried to _do best by you_."

"Where do you think you are going?" Severus called her back, a flick of his wand slamming the door in her face before she could leave. "If you think I am going to allow you to return to… to… _that father of yours_ and spend the holidays alongside that Potter brat after this week's performance, you are sorely mistaken!"

Estella let out a mirthless laugh.

"What, were you so caught up in disgust because I had done something that remotely reminded you of a school time foe that you did not even stop to read the paper?" she snapped. "Newsflash, Uncle Sev, you're not my guardian anymore! I got one-up on Umbridge, won the respect of my peers - peers that once outcast me and teased me, mind – and I gave my father back his rights. I was having what might count as one of the best days in my life until YOU HAD TO GO AN RUIN IT! WHAT'S HAPPENED TO YOU?"

"WAR!" said Severus, letting out a repressed growl of frustration. Stepping back and rubbing the back of his neck, he tried to calm down. "This war is what's happened to me…"

Recognising the signs of weakness in one of the last people Estella had ever expected to see them in, Estella regarded her uncle coolly and inched towards the door. If it became apparent that the adults around her couldn't even keep it together, then she didn't have any hope.

"Pull yourself together!" she said, sneering at her uncle in disgust. This tough-love approach to insecurities was a hardline that Estella was most used to having her uncle pull on her. "You have a job to do!"

Still grasping to regain hold of his resolve, Severus soon found himself in an empty office, staring blankly at the place in the wall where his niece had just been.

"A job," said Severus, his voice heavy, "indeed I do."

* * *

"He WHAT?" shouted Sirius, causing Harry and Estella to jump. They, along with Lupin, had been lounging around in the lounge room of their London home, enjoying a rare trip away from Grimmauld Place. It was the first night home for the Easter Holidays, and the teenagers had just finished relaying to their guardian the events of the latest Occlumency lesson. The main purpose of the discussion had been to reassure Harry that his parents were good people and had fallen madly in love with each other, but had quickly moved onto the dark-haired Slytherin.

"Are you serious, Harry?" said Remus quickly. "He's stopped giving you lessons?"

"Yeah," said Harry, surprised at what he considered a great overreaction. "But it's OK, I don't care, it's a bit of a relief to tell you the - "

"I'm going to have a word with him," said Sirius forcefully. "Estella, you were there, why didn't you talk him back into it-"

"Because he was mad as hell at _me_, all right?" snapped Estella, the memories of her uncle's words still fresh on her mind. "He thinks I encouraged Harry to look, and he was sour because my getting rid of Umbridge reminded him of something you or James would do - "

"I thought he was past that!" said Sirius, positively livid at what he was hearing. "Do not tell me that he is developing a unfair view of you because of something _I_ did twenty bloody years ago! It's bad enough he can't separate Harry from his father, but his OWN NIECE?"

"I don't know what it is, Dad," said Estella despondently, "he's been pushing me away for the better part of the year… it's not always noticeable and most of the time I've convinced myself that I'm imagining it, but something's changed in him and I couldn't help but notice that he was stand-offish when I saw him over Christmas break;" she frowned as the thought came to her for the first time. "Do you suppose something may have happened while he was spending Christmas with the Malfoys? Something he's not sharing? He did tell me that 'the war' is having an effect on him…"

"Stop it Estella, just stop!" said Sirius, motioning an end to her words with a slice of his hand. "You always try to justify what he does, and I'm getting sick of it. This _war_ is effecting everyone, but I would never… I would _never_… jeopardise the life of a child, let alone push my kids away! He has no excuse!"

Heeding her father's words, Estella began to rant. "You know, I wouldn't even have to have snuck a look if he would just have taught Harry properly to begin with! All he does is yell at him to 'clear his mind' before jumping straight into his head… no explanations or anything… I've half a mind to try and teach him myself!"

"Would you?" several voices asked her tentatively.

Estella paused, and then began to shake her head, no. Before his daughter could say as much, Sirius cut in.

"I don't know much about Occlumency, kid, but from what little I _have_ been able to understand in the past few months, it is important to be taught by someone that you trust and who you feel comfortable with," said Sirius. "That may have worked when your uncle was teaching you, but it'll never work for Harry…"

"But I am not a Legilimens," Estella pointed out. "I can go over the theory of Occluding his mind, but I can't very well test him on it! Harry… you have to go to my uncle and tell him that he can't stop your lessons… he should know that Dumbledore won't stand for it."

"I can't tell him that, he'd kill me!" said Harry, outraged. "You saw him when we got out of the Pensieve!"

"Yes, and I also saw him after he threw you out, remember?" Estella reminded him with a shudder. "Sure, he was still livid when _I_ left, but once he's cooled off he'll… he'll… well he won't _kill_ you, at least…"

The last of her sentence, '_I think'_ was added silently, her heart heavy with the possibility that, perhaps, just like her uncle, her ability to see things clearly was blinded by her personal prejudices.

END CHAPTER.


	22. What Dreams May Come

**Updated:August 12006**

**Disclaimer: Again, anything familiar is not mine. **

**Chapter Twenty-two: _What Dreams May Come…_**

The Easter Holidays were oh-too-short, with the final term of the year fast approaching. Unfortunately for Estella, the passing of one week had done little to dispel the level of notoriety she had reached within the school. On the first day of term, three quarters of the first years still wore black armbands in her honour, and the older students still went out of their way to smile at her as their paths crossed.

"Why do I feel as though I always have eyes on me?" whined Estella, being sure to keep her voice down. With exams a little over a month away, not even the library was proving to be a place of refuge… or maybe it was just her.

"That's because you do," said Reg nonchalantly, not looking up from his revision sheet. When he was done scribbling his sentence, he slapped his quill down, exhaled a breath, and flexed his fingers. Looking up, he shrugged. "You ought to be flattered… everyone in the school now knows what we've known since first year-"

"Oh yeah, and what's that?" said Elsie, looking up from her own book. The girl had hit a rough patch with her boyfriend, the pair spending increasing amounts of time apart.

"That you're clever, funny, imaginative…" said John, ticking off his fingers as he went; "…you know how to have fun, and where to draw the line…"

"… and don't forget 'cannot tell a lie'…" added Elsie helpfully. Estella shot her a reproachful look.

"Thank you, but I'd rather that last bit not become public knowledge," said Estella.

"Why not?" said John; "that's where the imagination kicks in, always giving you infinite possibilities to twist the truth…"

"Oh, gee, thanks… I think," said Estella, brows raised.

Just then, Fred and George Weasley came into view. Resting her forehead on the pages of the open book before her, Estella groaned. Seeing what they were looking for, the twins rushed over, smiles wide.

"Ah, there's our heroine-" said Fred

"Our successor-" said George

"Our inspiration," said Fred. "Hey, I daresay old chap that we ought to be writing all of this down – it'll go down a treat with the ladies-"

"Not that you're not a lady, dear Estella," George pointed out theatrically. "It's just to us, you're still a girl…"

"…not yet a woman," finished George, beginning to blush slightly. Turning to his brother, he frowned. "Merlin, Gred, how did we get on this subject?"

"I don't know, but let's change it!" said Fred hurriedly. Leaping atop a chair, he called for the attention of all the students at the study tables. "Who wants to hear a dramatic re-telling-"

"Of the glorious day that saw this school purged of an unseemly force?" said George, catching on fast and joining his brother on a neighbouring chair.

Interested, students began to abandon their books and mill around. After refusing point-blank to offer her testimony, the twins began to vividly depict the fateful evening just before Easter holidays. They each were taking turns of playing the roles of Estella and Umbridge, and were filling the holes in their story with outlandish embellishments. By the time they reached the end, the twins were dancing an impromptu victory jig on the table; an infectious foot-stamping ritual that quickly spread.

Roused by the sounds of dozens of feet stamping against the hard floor, hands clapping on desktops, and shoes tapping against chair legs, Madam Pince bustled into the study area.

"_What_ is going on here?" she yelled.

Fred and George stood stock still, but were entirely sure of themselves.

"Oh, we were just doing a victory dance to celebrate the departure of our not-so-dear High Inquisitor, dear Madam Pince," said George.

"It's purging the library of the evil cloud of censorship and desecration that was left in her wake," said Fred. "Care to join us?"

Madam Pince straightened herself to her most authoritative stance, but there was a small smile playing on her lips. Ever since Peeves had alerted her to Umbridge's presence in the library, and the woman's intentions, the years-hardened librarian had developed a bit of a soft spot. It didn't matter to her that Peeves had only told her about Umbridge's proposed book burning because the scheming Poltergeist believed that no one should get away with it if he couldn't; the fact remained with her that even the troublesome patrons - the noisy ones who didn't like to read – were capable of good. Seeing the happiness and reverence in the eyes of the scores of still-innocent children around her, the librarian marked the day down in history as a day of firsts.

"Yes, well, just be sure to _purge_ the school of her memory _quietly_," she said pointedly. Recovering some of her intimidating poise, she held her chin high and shot them all a trademark Pince glare. "This is _still_ a library."

As the stiff, autocratic librarian disappeared down an aisle of her beloved books, the children began to look at each other in disbelief. Shrugging, the twins sported matching gleams in their eyes as they nodded and, simultaneously, charmed their shoes to make no sound. All too soon, the study area was full of students soundlessly stamping their feet and tip-toeing in the throes of a unpractised, uncoordinated dance. Those that could not contain their laughter were promptly silenced with a _'Silencio_!' and pretty soon the entire area was full of red-faced children unable to let their laughter be heard.

When, then, Severus Snape walked into the library to find the unusually upbeat librarian humming happily and walking the aisles with a decided spring in her step, he simply assumed that the woman had just received a new shipment of books. When he traversed the library wing, needing to pass through the main study area on his way to the Restricted Section, nothing could have prepared him for what he was about to see. Happening upon the group of students, red-faced and sweaty with silent laugher and exertion, he stopped so suddenly that the inertia from his brisk pace had caused him to pitch forward, off-balance. He was just about to yell for the student's attention and address their conduct when he realised one of two things. One: why should he waste his time deducting house points and issuing detentions when it was Pince's responsibility. Two: Estella was amongst them, and she was _happy_.

Holding his head high, Severus Snape fixed his eyes on his destination and purposefully strode through the tables as though nothing were amiss. One by one, students in his direct path noticed his presence, and they stopped, but since they had all evidently silenced their mouths, none of them could issue a warning to their peers. When they noticed that the malevolent teacher had no intentions of paying any attention to their little soirée, they staggered back in bewilderment; history being made for the second time in less than an hour.

Estella, of course, had not missed the passage of her uncle through the main thoroughfare. It surprised her when the man passed on the opportunity to discipline she and her classmates, but rather than conclude that he was reluctant to ruin something that was making her happy – as she once would have – she began to think that perhaps the man was avoiding her. They had, indeed, not parted on very good terms before the beginning of the holidays, and had not spoken outside of a classroom setting since. His behaviour in class had been aloof and professional; their respective pride and stubbornness stopping either from taking the first step.

It wasn't until Estella could see Draco Malfoy follow her uncle into the Restricted Section several moments later, that she allowed her curiosity to get in the way of her enjoying the festivities around her. Making her way towards the row of shelves that separated the two areas, she spied on the pair through a gap in the books, but she was unable to hear what they were saying; most likely thanks to a privacy charm. Ducking out of view when her uncle turned to leave the library, Estella waited until she could be certain that the man had left before stepping forward and cutting off Draco's only exit.

"Care to tell me what that was about?" she tried to say, before realising that her voice was still under the Silencing Charm she had used on herself to stop her earlier laughter being heard. Waving her wand at herself, she non-verbally removed the spell, only absently paying mind to the younger students out in the main study area who would no doubt find out the hard way that it's not a good idea to use such charms on oneself when they haven't learnt non-verbal magic yet. Clearing her throat, she tried again.

"Care to tell me what that was about?"

"Why, are you spying on your uncle now?" said Draco testily. Whatever had transpired between the boy and her uncle, Estella decided, had evidently had an effect on the teenager.

"I was studying in the library with my friends, I couldn't help but see you," said Estella in her own defence. She craftily avoided answering Draco's question directly as she was, technically, using Kreacher to spy on her uncle.

"Studying?" said Draco incredulously, some of his dark mood slipping away.

"Oh _that_? We were just doing a victory dance to celebrate the, er, fact that Umbridge didn't get to burn all the books," said Estella, correcting herself mid-sentence as she remembered that a lot of the Slytherins – especially her Inquisitorial Squad - were actually disappointed to see the woman leave.

"Oh, well, yes, I suppose it's a good thing that those books were spared," said Draco conversationally, though his face looked as though he was sucking on a lemon.

"You're mad at me, aren't you? For ousting Umbridge… I mean, she did give you Slytherins the power you all crave so much…" said Estella knowingly.

Choosing his words very carefully, Draco's response was calculated and well thought-out.

"I miss the _power_, but I don't miss her," he confessed, stepping closer. "Had I known she was hurting you I would have gotten rid of her myself."

Simultaneously touched by his sentiment and equally disturbed by what the blond might have meant by 'getting rid' of someone, a horrifying thought came to Estella. What if she had read Draco all wrong and he wasn't being blindly misled by his father? What if Voldemort had given Draco an incentive by promising something he would never otherwise have – _her_. There were certainly spells and potions that could, in time, permanently imprint feelings of love and devotion upon a person, and it would certainly explain why there was still a bounty for her capture. Perhaps she had underestimated Draco's Slytherin tendencies; Devotion Potions would take hold so much more effectively if there existed no bad blood between the two parties – how could she have been so stupid? More pointedly, she realised, how come her uncle – a Potions Master for crying out loud – had not opened her eyes to this possibility? Was he _in_ on it? No… that couldn't be right, he's always stood by what was best for her… but what if… NO!… her uncle had always warned her to stay away from him… maybe he assumed that she was aware of the risk...

"Are you all right?" said Draco in concern, a hand reaching up to run fingers across the spot in her arm where the fading handprint of Dolores Umbridge still lingered.

Taking a step back, Estella looked at Draco oddly, armed with all these extra pieces of the puzzle but blind to their placement. Alarmed, Draco jerked forward as though to stop her, but then pulled back. Stumbling over his words, he rushed to assure her.

"I'm keeping my promise, I am!" he said, and it took Estella a moment to digest just what he was talking about. "I am trying my hardest to keep him out of it, but they're getting impatient… and… and… you know how persistent your uncle can be! I can only keep him out of my mind so much!"

Seeing Draco struggle to keep a tenuous hold on his emotions, the boy looking as though he might actually start crying, Estella felt her heart be filled with regret. Draco Malfoy may be lost, he may be scared of failing in his task, but that didn't stop him for totally disregarding the lives of others when giving Katie Bell that necklace and Slughorn, the poisoned mead. He may have genuine feelings for her, conditioned into him since childhood though they may be, but if his being nice and considerate towards her was all a ruse to give him what he wanted regardless of her input, then she couldn't take the risk.

She couldn't fault him for being loyal to his family for she knew what she would choose if faced between a life without her father and following him into the depths of hell and depravity. Just because she couldn't see anyone loving Lucius Malfoy, lest of all so _unconditionally_, and she most certainly couldn't see Lucius himself with any kind of sentimentality in that stone cold heart of his at all, it didn't mean that a bond didn't exist between father and son. With that in mind, Estella realised that Draco Malfoy was, as her uncle had warned her, unable to be redeemed. Telling him her true allegiances and encouraging him to turn his back on both his father and the Dark Lord would be a dangerous folly indeed if the boy was so fixated on having her for himself that he would trust the Dark Lord to the task of 'persuading' her.

"I have to get back to my study," she said stiffly, ducking under Draco's outstretched arm and darting around him. "Good luck with your OWLs."

Not even stopping to collect her books, and completely ignoring her friend's attempts to get her attention, Estella fled from the library, infinitely counting her blessings when Draco did not attempt to follow. There was only one place she knew of at that moment that she could go and be guaranteed some peace, and she couldn't get to her housemaster's fireplace fast enough.

Following from the mass exodus of DA members via Fawkes and the Keep's transient Floo connection, the existence of the room Estella had been allocated to construct a broom for the Order was no longer a Ravenclaw myth. Thankfully, the commuting students passing through its walls had little opportunity to explore it and, incidentally, none of them could regain access no matter how hard they had tried.

Estella hadn't been lying when she had assured the DA that the fireplace was not connected to any Floo Network. Borrowing from the magic of the castle, transportation to and from the room was something of a cross between assisted Apparation, a Portkey and Floo travel all rolled into one. The Floo's flames were blue, not green, and while departure points were limited to the four fireplaces of the Hogwarts housemasters – and Fawkes, as Estella had come to realise – only people with permission could get into the room. For a long while, Estella had assumed that said assent had to come from Dumbledore, but she had recently come to accept that since assigning the room to her, _she_ had effectively become the Keeper of the Keep.

Experimentally, she decided to revoke everyone else's ability to access the room, resetting it to allow only herself, Fawkes and any of Fawkes' passengers. She had been tempted – and pressed by her friends – to give her housemates a tour, for they had all heard the rumour of Rowena Ravenclaw's secret chamber and suspected the room's purpose straight away, but she resisted. As much as she liked spending time with her friends, she didn't want the Keep to become an exclusive congregation point. She knew that if the Keep were ever an option, her friends would choose it over the common room, library, or anywhere else in the castle just because they could, and Estella didn't want to set herself apart from the other students any more than she already was.

The Keep would, therefore, remain a place of quiet reflection and solitude; a place she could go to practice her piano, come to grips with her bond with Fawkes and write her Order reports. Her main assignment for the Order may be effectively over, but she still held the patents for the model's specific line of maintenance supply and it was important to keep her stock-pile replenished; so on that fact alone she knew that Dumbledore would not be taking the room away from her any time soon.

Nevertheless, it pained her to think that she was afforded a place of such privacy when no other student – bar the Head Boy and Girl – were given such luxuries, but she had to convince herself that her circumstances had warranted it. In an effort to make herself feel better, she did extend the Keep's invitation to one other; Harry. Like her, she realised that Harry needed a place to write his reports for the Order, and he had _both_ his Pensieve sessions with Dumbledore and the security measures for Muggleborns in Hogsmeade to account for. The Boy-Who-Lived was also the only person, asides from Dumbledore, who now knew of her link to Fawkes, the boy astutely having raised questions after her utilisation of the bird to evacuate the DA members from the Room of Requirement at the end of the fall term. Everyone else had assumed that since Dumbledore knew of the group, he had sent Fawkes to help them, but thanks to his own sessions with the headmaster, Harry had suspected differently and cornered Estella about it over the holidays. While it was impractical to expect Harry to be able to use his housemaster's Floo whenever he wanted access, now that Estella knew she could call on Fawkes to get them around, she had even stopped going to the room via her uncle's and headmaster's fireplaces. There was just simply no more need for it, and if Dumbledore had a problem with the two teenagers calling upon Fawkes like a private taxi service, then he certainly hadn't said anything.

Ever since the explosive confrontation during the 'Occlumency lesson that _wasn't_', Estella had taken it upon herself to run through a few meditative exercises with Harry before they went to bed each night. Short of becoming a Legilimens, Estella had no way of testing if Harry's mind was truly cleared, but he'd been granted a reprieve from his dreams over the Easter break that they were together, and working on it, and so at her father's insistence they were keeping it up. Since it was entirely inappropriate for either of them to visit each other's dormitories just before they were about to go to sleep, Fawkes became instrumental in retrieving each teenager once the curtains around their respective beds were closed and bringing them together in the Keep for the nightly ritual. Having whittled the rest of her evening away expelling her frustration on the piano, Estella had truly lost all sense of time, leaping from the stool in shock when Fawkes arrived with Harry at their prescribed meeting time.

"Merlin, is it that time already?" said Estella, closing the lid of the piano and staring at her fingers, unable to fathom how she had been able to play for so long.

"I had Fawkes swing by the kitchens on my way up," said Harry, removing a small rucksack from his shoulder. "You skipped dinner, and I figured you may have forgotten to eat."

Estella's eyes lit up at the sight of food and she thanked the boy profusely.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't be eating now… you probably want to clear your mind and get to bed…" she said through a mouthful of roast lamb sandwich.

Harry toyed with the flask of Pumpkin Juice in his hand and averted his eyes.

"I was thinking of maybe not clearing my mind tonight," he said, "I mean, had I not had that vision before Christmas, Mr Weasley would have died, everyone said so… what if I could be saving more lives?"

Slowly setting down her sandwich, Estella sighed. "Harry, we've been through this – those fighting this war know what they are risking, and it's not your responsibility to protect them all. You need to concentrate on getting your sleep and doing well in your study so that you can be as prepared as possible-"

"But people are dying every night!" said Harry, "_Innocent_ people! People who don't want any part in the war, who haven't asked for 'the risk'! I should be taking advantage of this connection I have, not keep trying to switch it off, damn it!"

"Harry, listen to yourself! Listen to what you're saying – if _you_ want to take advantage of the link, what makes you so sure that Voldemort wouldn't try to do the same thing if you kept your mind open?" Estella was getting increasingly panicked now. "You _must_ close your mind! The physical toll is reason enough… it's not just a matter of you being a martyr and punishing yourself in order to _maybe_ save someone, you are risking permanent damage! Just look at the Longbottoms, Harry - "

"All right, all right," said Harry, raising his hands in defeat. "I'll clear my mind… but just so you know I don't need you to hold my hand, I can do it myself now I know what I am doing!"

"Harry, _I_ don't even know what I am doing… not really," said Estella, rolling her eyes. "But fine, if you want to try it yourself, what are you doing, coming here every night?"

"Spending time with you," said Harry with a wry grin, tossing a dinner roll at her. "Though I hardly know why!"

"You're lucky I'm so hungry, otherwise you'd be needing a shower before bed!" growled Estella, throwing the dinner roll back at him anyway.

"Nah, you just don't want to have to clean up," said Harry, smirking. "Don't reckon this room would be on the house-elves rounds, do you?"

"I wouldn't be so sure about that, Harry, I'm sure there's a lot here that the house elves are privy to," said Estella.

With impeccable timing, a house-elf let itself be known, appearing before them with a determined _'crack!'_.

"Kreacher," said Estella, barely looking up. Across from her, Harry was blinking in surprise and gaping at Estella, his jaw opening and closing like a fish. Ignoring this, Estella looked to the elf. "What do you have to report?"

"Mistress, Kreacher is watching Mistress' uncle like Mistress has asked," said Kreacher. "Kreacher is seeing Mistress' uncle looking for Mistress since dinner."

"Why have you only just come to me now?" said Estella, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"Kreacher is not wishing to disturb Mistress if Mistress is wanting to be alone," said Kreacher, sending an accusatory look in Harry's direction. "Kreacher is coming to Mistress now because Kreacher is seeing Mistress' uncle seeking help in searching for Mistress."

"He's gone to Dumbledore?" said Estella. Kreacher nodded briskly. "Thank you, Kreacher, you may return to Grimmauld Place for now."

Kreacher bowed deeply and disappeared, but not before sneering at Harry. Estella thought over the elf's information for a moment, before reaching a course of action.

"Asphodel!" she summoned the Slytherin elf. While each house had a dedicated staff of house-elves, the elves were not specifically bound because it was hardly expected for students to know the names of elves in opposing houses. Even if a Gryffindor, say, were to know the name of an elf in its enemy's house, the elf would not particularly care for them and, thanks to binds of secrecy that _did_ exist, could not divulge house secrets.

"Miss Black!" the elf promptly appeared and bowed, "Please accept Asphodel's apologies. Asphodel was ignorant of your identity in our last meeting!"

It occurred to Estella that Asphodel must have seen her uncle retrieve her from the Slytherin common room that night she had fallen asleep on the sofa, in Draco's arms. Dismissing the elf's apology with a wave of her hand, she continued with her plan.

"Good, you know who I am," she said, relieved. "I need for you to find an elf for me, and ask her a question…"

"What elf could Asphodel be finding that cannot possibly serve Miss Black directly?" said Asphodel, big eyes narrowing into slits, making the young elf look rather sinister and suspicious looking. "Miss Black is seeking Lena! But Lena is being bound to Master Snape's quarters!"

"I _know that_," said Estella, rolling her eyes. "_That's_ why I can't call her, and why it is imperative that I find something out from her."

"But Miss Black, Lena is _bound_ to Master Snape's quarters!" said Asphodel, as though to say 'you're his niece, go to his quarters and ask the elf yourself'. "Lena cannot answer to orders outside Master Snape's quarters-"

"Surely you elves converse amongst yourselves, though," said Estella sweetly. "Could you not ask her if Master Snape has been trying to Floo somewhere from his office? He may have tried to reach me here, and I need to know…"

Asphodel considered her request. Finally, the small elf spoke.

"Asphodel could be asking that question on Miss Black's behalf," said the elf, nodding once before vanishing from view.

"That elf… that elf was…" said Harry, lost for words. "Really Slytherin."

"Really?" said Estella, rolling her eyes. Harry frowned.

"You're having your uncle followed?" he asked quietly. "You still haven't resolved things from last term, have you?"

"I've had Kreacher on my uncle's case for longer than that," said Estella tiredly. "I'm worried about him… mad too, but he's still my uncle."

"Want to talk about it?"

Estella spent the time whilst waiting for word from Asphodel confiding her fears about Draco and Severus' motives with the attentive Gryffindor. She left out the details about Draco's task, for she didn't want Harry to thrust himself in the middle of it and get himself killed, but most everything else she shared with him.

"What if he _is_ on their side, and that all of this posturing all this time has just been for my benefit? What if he really thinks that what he's doing is 'best for me'?" said Estella. "Am I a bad niece for doubting him?"

"I'm not the person you should be asking about this," said Harry maturely. "You know my feelings towards the man."

"Yes, and what if you're on to something?" said Estella. "What if you're actually right?"

"It'd be a first?" Harry drawled, trying to use humour to throw the conversation off course. He may have his reservations about the man, but he would have had to have been blind to not see how much Estella cared for her uncle – he didn't want to be responsible for changing that.

"Maybe he's right," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe this war _is_ screwing with our perception…"

"Yes, but he's the adult. Let him come to you," said Harry, remembering what Sirius had said. "You're too forgiving – don't sell yourself short."

Remembering the crushing feeling of hurt she had felt when her uncle had jumped to his conclusions and accused her of turning out like something he so despised, Estella recovered her resolve and nodded.

As it turned out, they needn't have sent Asphodel out to investigate whether or not Lena had seen Severus trying to access the Keep via his Floo. The pair were making short work of a small chocolate pudding when Fawkes flamed into view, a long-bearded wizard in his company.

"Merlin, I am going to conjure a train whistle," said Estella in exasperation. "This place is getting more traffic than King's Cross on the first of September!"

Dumbledore took in the sight of the two teenagers casually tucking into a late-night dessert. They put down their spoons when they noticed that he was actually looking rather foreboding.

"Your absence has sparked quite a bit of hysteria amongst the staff," said Dumbledore, a familiar glint of bemusement fighting through the mix of concern and relief in his eyes. "Estella, when your uncle could not access the Keep via his fireplace, he tore through Gryffindor Tower in search of answers…" at this he looked at Harry.

Two sets of eyes flew wide in surprise: this was news.

"Why?" said Estella insolently. "Surely he has the deductive ability to know that I was here."

"I don't think he was concerned for your location as he was worried about your _state_," said Dumbledore. "He was rather insistent upon accompanying me, but… well… I didn't think you would appreciate it."

"Thankyou for the consideration, Headmaster," said Estella, returning her attention to her pudding as though they were having a casual conversation. "You were right. I _don't_ want to see him. If he couldn't get that message from his Floo restriction alone, then feel free to pass on the message."

"Ah yes, about that," said Dumbledore, turning around behind him in search of a chair and, without hesitation, settling on a bright orange faux fur bean chair that seemed to embrace its occupant like a giant glove. "Your uncle was rather concerned when no adult could secure access to this room whilst both you and Harry appeared to be absconded within."

Harry was slower on the uptake than Estella, but she forgave him for the older Gryffindor boy did not know her uncle as well as she. She spat a mouthful of chocolate pudding across the room, cringing in embarrassment when flecks of it soiled Dumbledore's beard, causing the man to wordlessly remove it with a wave of his wand.

"You have _got_ to be kidding me!" she spluttered, reaching for the flask of Pumpkin Juice to wash down her food.

"Wait…" said Harry, catching on. "He… he… headmaster, did _you_…"

The Headmaster had the good graces to look sheepish.

"You must admit, that your conduct would raise eyebrows," said Dumbledore. "Sealing off access to this room, the pair of your disappearing after curfew, in what your dormitory fellows have admitted is a nightly occurence… just because you are not actively thinking of such things, it does not dispel the fact that you are at the age-"

Estella buried her face in her hands and groaned. She could not believe that she was talking about such things with her headmaster – she couldn't even say _the_ word – and she was mortified that the adults would take her actions and read them in such a way. The headmaster pressed on with his interrogation.

"It had been noted that your respective relationships had reverted back to friendships," explained Dumbledore apologetically. "I'm afraid, however, that I still must insist on knowing what you are doing here. The Keep was not entrusted upon you to be exploited in this way; irrespective of the nature of your purpose here, you are in breach of school rules and I must act now as your headmaster."

"But Professor Dumbledore," said Harry with a frown. "Didn't you ask Sirius to explain what sort of relationship we have? Not only could he have cleared things up, but he actually knows what we do here every night-"

"Yes, but you know what Dad's like," said Estella seethingly. "He'd have leapt at the opportunity to bait my uncle; feed his suspicions - am I close, Headmaster?"

"He was quite pleased by the suggestion," admitted Dumbledore. "I was henceforth inclined to believe it were true... Harry, you said your godfather knows of your meetings here with Estella?"

Harry nodded.

"That joke is getting so old," said Estella with a scowl. "Headmaster, I can forgive you for believing the worst, but my uncle knows better than to believe anything my father has to say to him.My bet is that he couldn't get what he wanted, so rather than accept that I want him to leave me alone, he deliberately perpetuated this rumour that Harry and I are…" she pulled a face "…_together _in order to get you to intervene!

"Estella, you must not be so hard on your uncle," said Dumbledore patiently. "What he had were valid concerns. Though I am sure that as your uncle he would invariably accept any choice of suitor you make in the future, it is his duty as a teacher to report any suspicions of students, ah, partaking in each other's company on school grounds."

_Partaking in each other's company_. Estella didn't even want to _think_ about what the headmaster obviously meant by that, let alone consider that it was what they suspected she was up to. She shuddered in embarrassment, her residual derision towards her uncle getting her back on track.

"Oh yes," she said to the headmaster, shaking her head in disgust. "I'm sure he had _valid concerns_… now let me tell you one of _my_ valid concerns and why it directly led to this situation. Or better yet, Harry, why don't _you_ tell the headmaster why we've been coming here every night since we got back from holidays?"

"My last Occlumency lesson, sir," said Harry quietly, "at the end of term… Snape refused to teach me again. Estella's been helping me clear my mind every night since… I brought her food tonight because she skipped dinner."

"Why was I not informed of this?" said Dumbledore quietly, all pretences of a twinkle gone. For the first time, Estella noticed that, for perhaps the first time, the old man had embarked upon a discussion with them and had yet to offer them a Lemon Drop.

"We knew that you'd bite my uncle's head off and force him to keep teaching Harry," said Estella. Dumbledore nodded reluctantly, but before the man could speak, she cut in. "You can say and do what you like, headmaster, but Harry's not having another lesson with him."

"No, I'm not," said Harry, sitting up a little straighter in his chair, a determined look set on his face. "Estella's been helping me plenty, I've not had any dreams or visions since she started walking me through the process each night."

"It's true, Headmaster," said Estella, nodding. "I may not be able to try and enter his mind myself, because I am no Legilimens, but you cannot deny that he's looking much more rested, despite going to bed a little later."

Dumbledore looked between the two determined teens, experience telling him that he was not going to sway them any differently. Extricating himself from his low chair with the help of a little spell that effectively pushed him upright, he ironed out the wrinkles in his robes and looked down at them decisively.

"Very well, I shall inform the relevant parties of your purpose here," he said. "I apologise to you, Estella, for ever suspecting that you would ever abuse the function of this room in such a way. I do not expect you to re-open the fireplace to your uncle, for the time being, but I will request that you send word to me when you intend to be here for periods at a time, so that I may be better informed when others come looking for you."

"Of course, Headmaster," said Estella, rising to see the Headmaster off. "Thank you for your discretion."

Placing his good hand on Estella's shoulder, Dumbledore regarded the small girl with a weary look and sighed.

"Child, whatever has transpired between yourself and your uncle, resolve it. Soon," he said. "Your uncle needs your assurances more than he will ever care to admit."

Estella knotted her brow and folded her arms across her chest obstinately. "He's the adult, he can make the first move!"

The Headmaster stood back to leave, Fawkes appearing on his shoulder. He looked down at her sadly.

"That," he said tiredly. "Is the first time I've seen you act your age… very well… I will let your uncle know."

Turning back to Harry as the Headmaster flashed away from view, she slumped her shoulders and flopped down on the chair next to Harry dejectedly.

"Why do I get the feeling that I've just disappointed him somehow?" she said.

"Because everyone's always expected so much from you, and you've always acted so older, that they don't know how to react when you draw the line?" said Harry helpfully, leaning in so their shoulders and heads could rest against each other. He knew all too well how Estella felt at that moment.

"Is it so bad for me to act my age once and a while?" she scowled. "No matter what I've seen and done, I'm still only fourteen. I ought to be entitled to act like a bloody fourteen year old whenever I damn well want!"

Harry didn't need to say anything, his presence alone enough of a reassurance. They sat together in contemplative silence, both invariably wishing that things could just be _normal_ for the two of them. Neither teenager was aware of the point when they fell asleep.

* * *

When they had awoken the next day, they found themselves wrapped up in a green Slytherin blanket. Harry's reaction had been priceless, and as much as Estella tried to explain that Asphodel had likely returned while they were asleep and not wanted to disturb them, the dye-in-the-wool Gryffindor could not get over the horror of what might happen if anyone found out. Bored with not having Operation Umbridge to amuse her, Estella had decided to jinx Harry's glasses to show green and silver where there was really scarlet and gold. 

When the confused teen had gone to sit with the Slytherins and nearly gotten his head hexed off, she was quick to remove the jinx, vowing to never again stoop to using Marauder methods to amuse herself. Since Harry never asked if she had done it, and she was not about to volunteer the information, she was rewarded with ongoing amusement as the slighted teen spent their evening moments together obsessing over it and making wild speculations as to the culprit, completely oblivious that said culprit was right beside him. It was, Estella supposed, lying by omission, and she felt a niggling feeling of guilt for deceiving him by her silence, but she wasn't stupid. With Harry confiding in her his various plans to avenge the innocent little jinx, she had more than enough incentive to keep her mouth shut; and frankly, she was rather surprised that he had not been able to figure out it was her in the first place.

That was, until, she woke up to find herself looking like a fourteen-year-old, female version of her uncle. After a few brief moments of panic – how on earth did her uncle not bump into things with that nose of his constantly blocking his view? – she caught on that none of her dorm mates were looking at her any differently, except maybe to ask why she looked so spooked. Harry had evidently slipped her something or hexed her just before they said their goodnights the night before, having known all along it had been her to jinx his glasses. Suddenly, she felt like such a fool for not taking the opportunity to confess, realising only too late that Harry was probably waiting to see if she would… either that or it had taken him some time to figure out how to alter her perception in kind.

While the impact of physically resembling her uncle brought back memories of primary school, back when she had been unfairly targeted by her peers and bullied for having a different home life, she could only be grateful that Harry had restricted limited the glamour for her eyes only. As much as she loved her uncle, the thought of looking like him in front of all her classmates was the thing of nightmares, and she knew that if that were to happen, things between herself and Harry would be irreparably damaged. Therefore, she took the retribution on the chin, full of respect and admiration for Harry for having the decency to respond to her trick in kind, and not out-play her. Harry's aversion of all things Slytherin was probably on par with her fear of being avoided and typecast as a 'mini-greasy-git'.

It just turned out to be an unfortunate casualty of timing that the life of Estella's perception-altering-hex had coincided with an emergency meeting for the Order of the Phoenix. Harry had chosen that day to use some of his Felix Felicis to complete his mission for Dumbledore, and his report could not wait. And since Estella had been avoiding her uncle ever since Easter, she was not particularly looking forward to sitting opposite the man in a meeting whilst her perception was so that she looked like him.

Taking that dreaded seat, however, Estella was unprepared for what she'd see when she looked over at her uncle. There, in place of his greasy hair and crooked nose, was an older, masculine version of her own face! Between the peals of giggles that could not help to follow, Estella found that she was mildly disturbed by the revelation that her features looked better on her uncle's face than they did on her own; he was actually quite handsome. It was either a case of her aristocratic lines being better suited on a male's face than a girl's – as in deed she favoured her father as equally to her mother, and he was considered to be rather handsome in his day – or _anything_ on her uncle's face that was not his own was to be considered a vast improvement.

Needless to say, the surrounding Order members were rather surprised by her outburst, and remained completely oblivious as to its cause. Tears of mirth leaking out of her eyes, Estella found Harry looking at her smugly, nodding slightly as his eyes shifted between the two relatives. It occurred to Estella then, that perhaps Harry had not so much jinxed her to poke fun at her as he did to encourage her to talk to her uncle. For as much as Harry disliked the man, he respected the fact that Severus and Estella had a special bond; and after being rejected by his own aunt and uncle, he was rather insistent on seeing healthier relationships preserved. Guessing that her perception was entirely one-sided (for she doubted Harry would be so brazen as to attempt to mess with her uncle's self-image and expect to live to tell the tale) she decided that whether or not Harry had intended for her to be a little more good-humoured in her uncle's presence, his stunt had certainly pushed any nagging tension and uncertainty she felt when in his proximity.

For weeks now, she had been sitting in the back of his classes, acting unhelpful when he called upon her in class and then leaving straight afterwards. She had stopped attending their unofficial tutoring sessions, skived the detentions he tried to set, and ignored his summons. Dumbledore had pulled her aside and questioned her on it, but since her uncle could not fairly detail any school-related reason for the detentions he set as her teacher, the Headmaster could not insist that she serve them, only encourage her to hear the man out. Far from still being actively mad at the man for thinking so poorly of her – firstly when he had concluded that she had _wanted_ all the attention that being attached to Umbridge's dismissal had given her, secondly when he had thought that she actually enjoyed invading his private memory with Harry and, finally, when he had actually thought to suggest to the headmaster that she and Harry were up to something lewd in the Keep because he could not get in – Estella could no longer remember what was so important about her decision to be mad in the first place.

She could only suppose, in some sense, that she wanted to test the lengths that her uncle was willing to go to for her… to make him try harder. Her father and Harry had been right in saying that she was far too accommodating – it was something that came with having such a logical and rational mind. Deep down she knew that she was being slightly unfair to her uncle as, due to security concerns, he could not well write anything down on paper like a parent or family member estranged from a loved one may be inclined to do. Even if the utmost security could be assured, she knew from experience that her uncle was instinctively reluctant to articulate himself on paper. But then unlike other people's families, _he_ got to see her everyday. When his detentions and summons did not bring her to him, he could have sought her out. He could have pulled her out of the library that day earlier in the term, and on any number of occasions in the Great Hall he could have requested an audience with her after the meal.

Now that she couldn't keep a straight face when looking at him, she realised that it was foolish of her to keep holding out, waiting for her uncle to 'make an effort'. They were in the middle of a war and anything could happen to either of them at any time; coming to that stark realisation, Estella didn't even want to consider the regret she'd have felt had she kept holding out.

"I'm sorry," she said, looking at her uncle, but also apologising to the rest of the Order for disrupting the proceedings. No sooner had the words left her mouth, did her uncle's face return to its usual self and, turning her eyes inwards to stare at the end of her considerably smaller nose, she confirmed that her perception of self was back on track. Her head turning to Harry so fast that the muscles in her neck protested, she promptly shot him a dirty look and scowled. Heaven knows how long it would have taken her to figure out what she needed to do to see her own face again had they not had the unscheduled meeting! "Were you even going to _tell _me?"

The strange looks the Order members had been reserving for her now spread to Harry, who bowed his head and muttered an apology in the headmaster's direction. The old man, in turn, looked carefully at each teenager, an infernal knowing look in his eye. Discerning that all outbursts and non-Order-related tangents were exhausted, he smiled and cleared his throat.

"I have some very encouraging news," he said, before helping Harry detail the purpose of their regular meetings and visits into the Pensieve.

As details of Harry's strength over Voldemort and the ongoing pursuit for the Horcruxes sunk in, the Order members were all weighed down with the gravity of their responsibility. The battle ahead was only just beginning…

* * *

"Pretty intense stuff, huh?" said Harry, settling down in his favoured bean bag in the Keep and rubbing at his scar subconsciously; as he was prone to do whenever they were discussing the war. Neither teenager had felt particularly up to staying at Grimmauld Place with all of the Order members, even though it was a weekend and under normal circumstances they would have taken advantage of the time away. The hope and confidence had been sapped out of the Order… no one actually having _said_ so, but the feeling hanging like a dark cloud over everyone's heads nevertheless. It was only a temporary blow to their armour, that much even the teenagers could see, for news – good or bad – had habitually requested a period of adjustment. Once the news had properly sunk in and they'd all had time to plot a course of action the old, familiar sense of security, confidence and hope would return… it always did. Until that time, however, the teenagers could not leave headquarters fast enough. 

"Understatement, much," said Estella, distracted as she flicked through a CD rack by the Muggle stereo that was charmed to broadcast her music around the room. Choosing a title that always seemed to help them clear their mind the fastest – for music was always a main part of their nightly meditative practices – Estella tapped the empty case on her chin whilst she as waiting for the disc to load and titled her head at Harry in consideration. "Hey, I reckon we should bring our instruments here during the term," she said, referring to the charmed karaoke instruments that her father had gotten them as a joint gift. "It's not fair that the adults get to have all the fun during term… this would be an ideal place to jam, hey?"

"Yeah," agreed Harry absently, his mind elsewhere. "We should definitely bring them back with us after summer."

"Yeah, but let's not tell Padfoot, else he's likely to get you your own set for your birthday under the pretence of being able to keep one at home for himself!" she said, tossing the CD case aside and diving over the edge of a lounge, making herself comfortable now that the music was playing. Looking over to Harry to see if he was ready to begin, she stopped adjusting the cushions around her. Silencing the stereo with an effortless wave of her wand, she narrowed her eyes at the older boy. "All right, what's up? I'm not going to start this until you get whatever it is off your chest."

"When will you speak to your uncle?" Harry blurted.

"_Tomorrow_," she rolled her eyes, crossing her legs into the lotus position and straightening up. "When will _you_ speak to Ginny?"

Harry began to splutter.

"Don't turn this on me!" he said indignantly. "Somehow I think resolving things with a family member is more important than me declaring my feelings for Ginny."

"Got you! Aha!" said Estella, pointing at him triumphantly. "So you _do_ have feelings for Ginny!"

Harry swore. He'd walked right into that one. Estella had been silently observing Harry around the redheaded girl ever since things between he and Cho had cooled off just after Christmas. Ginny, meanwhile, seemed more than well aware of Harry's newfound availability, and Estella hadn't been blind to the girl's subtle overtures. And much to her relief, she did not feel any sort of derision or jealousy towards the red-headed girl. It wasn't that Estella would consider herself one of Ginny's _friends_, but just because their social circles never really crossed paths, it didn't mean that she didn't like the girl. When Estella was being entirely honest with herself, she could see Ginny and Harry being good together. Besides from the aesthetic coincidence of it being like a James and Lily all over again – so far as looks went – Harry and the Weasleys went back a long way, and Ginny was one of few girls who would truly be open to who Harry was as a person, not just what he represented as the Boy-Who-Lived. Harry needed someone he could trust, and it was an added bonus that Ginny's family already considered him a seventh son.

"You're not going to bite my head off?" said Harry in surprise, knowing there would be no point in denying it. "Tell me that I'm crazy to go after my best friend's sister?"

"Well… when you put it that way…" said Estella teasingly, hastening to reassure Harry that the Weasley boys would have to want Ginny to be a nun if they thought he wasn't good enough for their sister.

"So… so you're really okay with it?" said Harry.

It occurred to Estella that perhaps Harry felt he needed her approval before he could go on. She had, after all, been more-or-less right about Cho. At the prospect of having her opinion so genuinely valued and respected, her heart soared, and she smiled. Searching deep inside herself to truly consider whether or not she was okay with Harry's choice, she realised that the lingering feelings of doubt that had come with not knowing how she herself felt about Harry were gone. Did she love Harry? Yes, she did… unconditionally. She would walk the ends of the earth for him and endanger her life to stand by him in the battle that loomed ahead. That's what family did for each other – and Harry was her brother in every sense of the word.

"Why wouldn't I be okay with it?" said Estella.

"Well," said Harry awkwardly. "I noticed you had stopped pursuing things with John, and I thought that maybe you-"

"Wanted a go at you?" Estella made a face, reminded of the time when her uncle seemed to believe that she and Harry were off 'having a go' at each other. She shook her head vehemently. "What happened between John and I has nothing to do with you. I just don't feel ready for that kind of relationship… so much else is going on."

"Right," said Harry in consideration. "So maybe I shouldn't say anything to Ginny, huh…"

"You do what's right for you," Estella shrugged. "Just because I can't seem to fit it in, doesn't mean you can't. I mean, you're the _Boy-Who-Lived_, you're supposed to be an exception."

Sticking his tongue out at the teasing girl, he readdressed his earlier question.

"You still haven't told me when you're going to really fix things up with your uncle," he said.

"Unlike _some _people, my uncle doesn't require so many words. He got my meaning when I apologised at the meeting, and anything else that needs to be said between us can wait until we've both had a chance to absorb what's been revealed at the meeting." said Estella, shrugging. "Now come on, out with it, I know my uncle and Ginny are not the only things on your mind… mmm… that didn't come out too well, did it?"

Mortified, Harry blanched and threw a cushion at her. Hard. He wasn't even going to dignify the statement with an answer, and so instead moved right along.

"Well, I was just thinking, that with most all the Order accounted for, and no one really having much idea on what, exactly, Voldemort is up to…" said Harry, smoothing his fringe over his forehead compulsively. "Maybe tonight's a good night to not clear my mind?"

"Why are you even asking me?" said Estella resignedly, all previous light-heartedness and humour issuing from her like a Quaffle in the path of a sharp pointy object. She could tell that the determined Gryffindor had already talked himself into it, and told him accordingly. "You've already made up your mind and will do it no matter what I say, I'll bet. You already know how I feel about it, and its something that's not going to be swayed no matter how you try to justify it."

"So you still think it's a bad idea?" Harry frowned.

"I will _always_ consider it a _very_ bad idea," Estella emphasised. "But you do what _you_ think is right. I trust you…"

"Will you stay with me, in here?" said Harry, looking at her pleadingly. "Just in case?"

"Harry, if you hadn't asked, I would have insisted," said Estella with a wry grin. "Let me state for the record that while I may not like this, I would never not stand by you. Do you really suppose that I would get any sleep in my dorm, knowing that your mind is open to whatever Voldemort may care to subject you to? He'd torture one of his own minions to death just to have you feel it."

"Nice try, Estella, but that's not going to scare me out of it," said Harry, tossing a pillow at her.

"Damn," said Estella, scowling as her ruse was blown wide open. Considering pleading with the boy to reconsider, she opened her mouth a few times to speak. "Harry…"

"I'm doing it, Estella," said Harry firmly. "I _need_ to do this… just wake me up if you get worried, ok? I promise you that I will never do it without you… does that help?"

"No, it just confirms my fate as an insomniac," said Estella agitatedly. "Like I'm going to risk sleeping through an attack on your mind now!" she got up grumpily and moved over towards the piano. "D'you mind if I play, or will that keep you up?"

Harry stood and stilled her hand as she went to raise the lid of the piano.

"We don't _have_ to do this. If it's making you uncomfortable…" he said.

"No," said Estella, pinching the bridge of her nose in annoyance. "Even if you gave me your word that you would clear your mind for my sake, I'll not be able to sleep. It's strange… I mean I would trust you with my life without hesitation, but I guess I just can't trust you not to give in to your curiosity. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," said Harry, looking away. "You're probably right… keeping my mind closed _has _been driving me mad with curiosity…"

"I know," said Estella, exhaling sharply. "As much as I don't want you to, it's something you feel you need to do. It's not my place to stand in your way… and I'll stand by you. I may not be _happy_ about it, and you'll be wanting to keep a wide berth in the morning, but I'll have your back. Besides, like you said, with me here to wake you up, what's the worst that could happen?"

In two words: _a lot_; but neither teenager was to know that at the time.

* * *

When Estella next awoke she was straddling the long piano bench, her feet hooked around the stool's legs on one end, and her fingers brushing the clawed feet of the chair's legs on the other. She was stretched out on her stomach, with her neck turned away from the silent ivories slightly overhead. Drool welled in the studded leather under her cheek, and at first she thought that the moisture had been what had woken her, but then she heard it again. 

"SIRIUS! NO!" Harry was thrashing around wildly on the piles of floor cushions he'd fashioned into a bed. His voice was hoarse with overuse, which suggested that he'd been screaming for quite some time…

Quick as a flash, Estella shot up off the stool she'd lost her guard on, seeing stars as the left side of her head and shoulder came into brutal contact with the unforgiving underside of the piano. Dazed, she leant away from the source and fell back onto the stool, the way in which she landed on the narrow bench causing the legs to rock and tumble. Inhaling sharply as she felt the bench give way under her, she braced herself for impact and was winded as her right arm hit the floor first, sending an elbow into her ribs.

Catching her breath, Estella swore and groaned. Across the room, Harry was still crying out for her father, and it terrified her to think of what his unguarded mind was seeing through Voldemort's mind at that time. Driven by her concern, she pulled herself up onto all fours, closing her eyes against the dizziness which she hoped did not signify a concussion. Taking a deep breath and swallowing back the wave of nausea that turned her stomach inside out, she blocked the pain in the left side of her head aside and concentrated on making it to Harry.

By the time she reached his side, the boy was awake and sitting upright, his hair matted to his head with sweat as he fumbled around wildly for his glasses. Upon realising where he was and who he was with, he grabbed Estella's shoulders and shook, urgent tears leaking from the corners of his eyes.

"He's got Sirius!" he said, moments away from a full-blown panic attack. "They're in the Department of Mysteries!"

Overwhelmed by the persistent throbbing in the back of her head, Estella took a little longer than usual to take in Harry's words. Then, pulling both herself and Harry to their feet, she headed towards a makeshift potions lab in the corner. While Harry had fallen asleep halfway through the Sonata she had elected to play, Estella still hadn't been tired. Endeavouring to stay awake all night, she'd taken the initiative of raiding the small supply of potions ingredients she had left over from having brewed many experimental broom polishes in the room, and preparing a few essential potions in case Harry could feel the effects of any curses Voldemort used while their minds were open to each other.

Setting aside two vials of Pepper-Up, which were already on hand since Benson had drunk the stuff like water when they were working non-stop over some weekends, she then ladled a dose of the post-Cruciatus potion that was still cooling in its cauldron. Looking at Harry carefully, she hesitated before handing the warm vial over.

"Did you feel a Crucio?" she said. When Harry was unable to bring himself to respond – no doubt the teen was reliving what he had just seen – she thrust the vial in his hand anyway. "Drink."

"Drink?" said Harry dumbly, staring down at the potion. "VOLDEMORT HAS YOUR DAD AND YOU WANT TO STOP AND DRINK?"

Hearing Harry say it again was enough to make Estella's blood run cold, and she found her sense of rationality giving way to sheer, unadulterated panic. Downing her dose of Pepper-Up, feeling slightly more alert once its medicinal agents chased her fatigue away, she slammed her vial down angrily.

"Don't you think I know that?" she said in a deadly calm voice. "But we're no use to anyone like this!"

Watching Harry drink his potion dutifully, replacing the empty vial in his hand with the dose of Pepper-Up she had left for him, she turned and fossicked around for a Headache Potion. Seeing the back of her head, Harry swore.

"Your head's bleeding!" he exclaimed.

"Really?" said Estella, half in surprise, half in sarcasm. "That would explain why my head hurts so bloody much then! Remind me when this is over to not to fall asleep on a piano stool again will you?"

"You can't take a Headache Potion," said Harry suddenly, stilling her arm in alarm. "You've just had a Pepper-Up and might have a concussion…"

Irritably, Estella knew he was right, but if it meant getting rid of the throbbing pain, she was willing to sacrifice a little of her alertness. It wasn't as though she could be particularly on the mark with her head pounding so much. Choosing the decided lesser of the two evils, she wrenched her hand out of Harry's grip and drank the Headache Potion.

"It's the better of the two, trust me," said Estella, touching the back of her head gingerly to try and determine if she would need to try and bandage it or not. Head wounds bled like geysers, but maybe if she was lucky her hair would help the wound to scab over quickly. "Now tell me what you saw."

Skipping the more vivid details, Harry got the bare facts across in a matter of seconds. Before he had even finished his description, Estella had her mirror in her hand, intent on confirming whether or not the vision was true. On her second call, an unexpected face appeared in the reflective glass.

"Kreacher?" she said, unable to contain her surprise. Sharing a hold on the mirror's weathered wooden frame, Harry craned his neck to see into the reflection, but said nothing. Estella was immediately on alert. "Kreacher, what are you doing with Dad's mirror?"

"Mistress!" Kreacher said, almost dropping his end of the mirror in shock. "Mistress wants to know what Kreacher is doing with Master's mirror! Kreacher is cleaning Master's mirror."

Estella's eyes narrowed in suspicion. The day after her uncle had tried to access the Keep whilst she was in it, she had sent Kreacher back to Grimmauld Place because she had, at the time, reached the point where she had no longer cared enough about what her uncle was doing in order to justify a spy. The elf hadn't been happy with the 'demotion' and, in thinking he had failed his mission, locked himself in the attic and injured himself to the point where injuries were still visible.

"Kreacher, I know for a fact that my father is never without his mirror, and that he would sure as hell never let you clean it," said Estella, fighting to keep the hysteria out of her voice.

"Kreacher isn't telling Mistress that Kreacher is having Master's _permission_," said Kreacher, with a malevolent smile. "Kreacher is waiting for Mistress to call."

Clinging to the hope that the elf had filched the mirror from under her father's nose because he wanted to speak to his mistress, Estella gripped the edges of the frame.

"Kreacher, this is very important," said Estella slowly. "I need for you to give the mirror back to my Dad."

"Kreacher cannot do that, Mistress," said Kreacher just as slowly.

Harry made a strangled noise, but knew to stay out of the elf's line of sight, lest they lose even more precious time with trying to get around the bad-mannered elf's tirade of insults. Beside him, Estella gasped.

"Why not?" she said in a choked voice. "Is he not in the house?"

"Master is not in the house," said Kreacher.

Estella put down the mirror and looked at Harry, mirroring his look of dread.

"He said he was going to stay at headquarters," she stated numbly. Her voice becoming a little louder and hysterical, she began to cry. "He said he was going to stay at headquarters. Didn't he say he was going to stay there?"

"He could have changed his mind," said Harry hopefully. "Maybe he went home…"

"But he wouldn't leave without his mirror!" she said in alarm.

"Is there any way of contacting him at home?" said Harry, running sweating palms over the thighs of his trousers. "Just to make sure?"

"No, damn it! He's supposed to have the mirror on him always! The Floo at the house is only connected to headquarters now – he cut off the connection to Hogwarts after Umbridge almost caught him in the fire that night," she began to pull at her hair in desperation. "We have the telephone, but Hogwarts isn't exactly hooked up… argh!"

"What about Moony?" said Harry, gesturing towards the mirror. "He should have his-"

"But he's going back undercover tonight," said Estella with a frown. "Even if he was able to take the call, he wouldn't be able to extract himself from the situation and be of any immediate help. Dad wouldn't be without his mirror unless _something _was keeping him from it-"

"We just… we just have to assume the worst, then…" said Harry grimly, a solemn look on his face. He swallowed heavily. "Even if it is a trap, we can't _not_ go. Not when we're not sure…"

"Right, then we need to tell someone here…" said Estella, only to realise that Dumbledore had yet to return to the school and that if they told her uncle he'd never let them leave. Telling another teacher was a possibility, but then no teacher would let them go, Order members or no. "Or maybe we can just leave a note."

"A note," said Harry dubiously.

"Yeah. We'll go to headquarters to get the Order… Fawkes will take us…" said Estella. As if on cue, Fawkes appeared. "Better yet, Fawkes can take us directly home!"

Shaking his head, Harry refused to touch the old bird. "We could be heading directly into a trap there! We need to tell the Order-"

"That will take too long!" Estella said, frowning as the logistics began to settle in her mind. "Waking everyone up, explaining the same thing over and over… and then have them want to verify 110 if the vision was true or not…" she let out a shaky breath.

"You're right," said Harry, paling. "That will take too long! You didn't see what they were doing to him… Merlin, Estella, we have to act _fast_."

"I know," said Estella, chewing on her bottom lip so hard it bled. "But Harry… we can't take them on by ourselves…"

"I'm not saying that!" said Harry. "The DA! Fawkes can pull them right from their beds and bring them here – he's as much as done that before with us at the beginning of those Order meetings. We can explain everything just once – those that don't want to go can raise the alarm here once we're gone – and then Fawkes can take us straight in!"

"Fawkes doesn't have infinite sources of energy," she said, casting a sympathetic look at the bird who was only a few days shy of a Burning Day. "There's no way he's going to be able to pluck thirty odd people from their beds, bring them here, then take us all to London. We need to limit this to people who can fight well, and who are most likely to agree to come in the first place." Harry nodded, and Estella turned to the bird. "Start with our friends, and then anyone else you think who will come. Bring only as many as you feel you can orb the distance with."

The bird shrilled softly and disappeared. Harry frowned.

"How is Fawkes going to know who our friends are and who is best in the DA?" he said.

"Because he's been spying on most of our lessons since the beginning of the year and I've told him as much, that's why," said Estella, having to take the moment to sit down and place her head between her knees for a moment, the bang on her head and anxiety causing the room to spin. Her voice muffled as it was directed at the floor, she began to sob. "Merlin, Harry, I don't know if _I _can do this! Why did I have to hit my bloody head? My Dad's in trouble and I… I can't… I'm not thinking straight."

"It's the potion," said Harry, sitting down beside her and rubbing her back, "I _told_ you it would affect you!"

"One day I will ask you to tell me how you know that," said Estella absently, raising her head slowly and concentrating on sucking in big lung-fulls of air. "Taking the potion couldn't be helped – I would have been worse off with my head pounding like that."

Their conversation as broken by the arrival of several key people in the pair's lives. Ron, Hermione and Ginny represented Harry's friends, with Reg and John counting for Estella's. Harry was surprised to not see Elsie there, but then again Elsie had never been particularly strong in Defence, even after joining the DA. Though they were in various stages of consciousness, each were fully dressed as everyone, particularly the DA, knew that an attack from Voldemort waited for no man to dress and had made a habit of sleeping in clothes.

A few buckets of water, accompanying drying charms and quick explanations later, all were keen to go. As it was doubtful that Fawkes would be up to a journey to headquarters after the fact to raise the alarm, Dobby was summoned, and the panicking elf was given a note with explicit instructions to wait five minutes before taking it to Hagrid. McGonagall was out of the question, as the witch was on leave, ironically enough, so she could devote her time to the Ministry and assisting authorities with the inquest into Umbridge's behaviour. While some people were hesitant to trust that Hagrid would be able to take on the responsibility, Estella was adamant. The man's old pet, Aragog, had just died, and she wanted to give the loyal half-giant a sense of purpose. She could only hope that the gesture would make up for months of hardly making the time to go and see the busy games keeper since his return from visiting with the giants. It had just been so difficult to make time to go visit the wizard since she didn't have any classes with him and he was always spending so much time in the forest.

"Why not send Dobby to your uncle?" Harry whispered to her as they gathered around the great bird, all but two people firmly clasping a person in each hand.

"Are you kidding?" Estella spoke over the patient bird between them as they grabbed onto either claw. "Dobby is _terrified_ of my uncle, and I'd much rather my uncle find out about this when we're all back, nice and safe, thank you-"

"-very much," her sentence was finished within the main Atrium of the Ministry. It would have been a folly to deposit themselves right in the centre of where the Death Eaters were… better to start at the top and get a lay of the land first.

"Thank you, Fawkes," she whispered. The bird, too exhausted to orb itself anywhere – for indeed what little was left of his plume was dull and patchy – shrilled softly and flew up into an eave in the ceiling, where he promptly burst into flames. Those that were not entirely familiar with the Phoenix or had not seen a Burning before, leapt back in surprise and concern. Sighing, Estella looked up to where the bird once was and offered a quick reassurance. "He'll emerge from the ashes as a hatchling and be useless – to us anyway – for a couple of hours. Don't worry, he'll find his way home."

"Right now, I'm more worried about _us_ making it home," said John in trepidation. Four years at an English boarding school had not been without its influence on the accent of the Irish-born, but Estella could always tell when her friend was nervous about something by the way his lilt returned. Right now, it was full force, causing a few of the Gryffindors, who had only ever spoken to him in passing, to look at him in surprise.

As they headed towards the nearest elevator, the Atrium seeming dark and foreboding without the usual bustle of activity that would hopefully return in a few hours time.

The beginnings of dawn glowing through the one-way windows that kept the Atrium lit by day barely crossed the threshold of the elevator as the doors began to close. Descending into the dark underbelly of the Ministry, the seven determined teenagers felt like they were the only people alive who knew that the day ahead was not going to be just another day.

END CHAPTER

A/N: Nothing like a _little_ Cliff-hanger to mark the one-year anniversary of this fic grins wryly. A huge thank you to all of you faithful readers who have stuck it out this long; I am putting the polishing touches on the final few chapters and hope to have the story completed by month's close. When I'm not fighting off evil plot bunnies... hint

NEXT CHAPTER: _May_ be on the weekend...


	23. The Department of Mysteries

Updated: Tuesday 29 August 2006 

**Disclaimer: Anything familiar shamelessly _borrowed_ from OotP / HBP. If I was receiving any financial retribution for my surrender to the plot bunnies, I wouldn't have to work for a living and would thus have the time to update in a more timely manner… **

**A/N: Author's profile updated.**

**Chapter Twenty-three: _The Department of Mysteries_**

It was strange, descending into the bowels of the Ministry without having passed through a single layer of security checks. As young people in the magical world, they had all invariably come to the Ministry at some point in their lives; all were familiar with its processes.

"I never thought I'd say it, but I kinda miss not wearing a name tag," mused John nervously, eying down at the empty space on his robes where the standard-issue badges would have gone. He rubbed a hand over the finely woven house crest self-consciously. "And it feels mighty strange wearing school robes!"

"Yes, well, it would be all too convenient for identification purposes if the Death Eaters all went around with name tags on," drawled Reg. "Though you'd think they'd need them for each other since they hide their faces behind those pathetic masks."

"I don't even want to think about what they might have stated as their 'business'," said Ron, gulping loudly. There was a collective shiver.

"Yes, well as long as our business here turns out as a rescue mission and not a suicide mission, I don't care!" said Ginny, still managing to place her hands on her hips even though the elevator seemed impossibly small.

"Department of Mysteries," a cool, automated female voice reverberated throughout the loud elevator as it ground to a hot. Caught by surprise, the teenagers flinched, and were instantly on their alert when the golden grilles slid open. They stepped out into the corridor where nothing was moving but the nearest torches, flickering in the rush of air from the lift.

Cautiously making their way towards the door at the end of the corridor, they slipped in one by one; finding themselves in a large, circular room. Everything in here as black including the floor and ceiling; identical, unmarked, handleless black doors were set at intervals all around the black walls, interspersed with branches of candles whose flames burned blue; their cool, shimmering light reflected in the shining marble floor made it look as though there was a dark water underfoot. Instinctively closing the door behind them, they were unprepared for the loss of light which the brightly burning torches in the corridor had cast into the room; the blue flames bathing the place in a eerie midnight blue glow, but only bright enough to discern shape from shadow.

The process then, of selecting the correct door to walk through was hindered by the fact that the circular wall would spin around them every time a door closed. Already in breach of about a dozen school and ministry rules just by being there, however, no one felt any reservations about using their wands, and so each door was carefully and methodically marked as it was checked.

One room that left a most unassuming impact upon the trespassing students was an abandoned amphitheatre with imposing stone terraces and a lone dais in its centre. A simple archway was all that stood on the raised platform, a tattered curtain preventing them all from seeing through the displaced doorway. Though the others heard nothing, neither Harry nor Estella could quite shake the feeling of unease that came with the ghostly whispers that seemed to have singled them out. Finding nothing of interest in the room, they pressed on; next finding themselves in a brilliantly lit room full of clocks of every description. In the months before Harry began receiving _proper_ Occlumency tutoring, the weary Gryffindor had recalled a recurring dream that traced a particular path through the Department of Mysteries. It had been the only way Harry had been able to tell where Voldemort was keeping Sirius, and now it was showing them the way.

Bustling past the man-sized bell jar that was made of crystal and sitting atop a desk as wisps of glittering wind billowed within it, Harry led them to another door.

"This is it," he said quietly, as the door swung open.

Their destination was a room that stood high as a church and was filled with nothing but towering shelves covered in small, dusty, glass orbs. They glimmered dully in the light issuing from more candle-brackets set at intervals between the shelves. Like those in the circular room behind then, their flames were burning blue. The room was very cold.

"Dad isn't here," said Estella suddenly, her breath catching in her throat. She didn't know _how_ she knew what she did, but she couldn't help but stop cold in the realisation. "This is a trap… Harry… he wants the _prophecy_!"

Looking from Estella, to the long aisle of shelves, the scene from his vision no doubt replaying itself in his mind as he tried to subtract fact from fiction, Harry pursed his lips into a thin line.

"I think…" said Harry slowly, his eyes widening. "I think you may be right! Estella, what was Padfoot wearing when we left last night?"

"Um… the Reebok Pumps Tonks got him for his birthday, those jeans with all the rips in them, and that moth-eaten grim reaper t-shirt that Mrs Weasley hates…" said Estella without hesitation. Her father had become increasingly bored of late, and had, since Easter, taken to dressing in clothes that would 'draw the criticism of all the mother hens in the Order'. That previous night's choice, had been particularly memorable for Estella after her father had told her that her mother had bought him the t-shirt during her first visit to a Muggle mall. The first store Selina Black had walked into had been quite popular with bikies and heavy rockers, but being so relatively clueless on Muggle fashion, the young Hogwarts graduate had assumed that everyone dressed like that, and bought the shirt for her boyfriend (and a few other choice items of clothing for herself, asides, that Sirius had expressly forbidden their daughter from 'looking sideways at').

"What's the likelihood that he would have changed into robes between the time we left and the time I woke from the dream five hours later?" said Harry quickly.

"Slim to none," said Estella, paling. Turning to the others, she gestured back in the direction from whence they came. Frowning slightly, she tilted her head towards the place in Harry's robes where she knew he always kept his mirror; her own hand reaching inside the folds of her own cloak to retrieve her own. "Maybe we should try another mirror-call. If he's all right, he'd surely have noticed his mirror missing by now and found it on Kreacher…"

The two dark-haired teens pulled out their identical hand mirrors simultaneously, and after casting a quick spell to ensure their voices would not carry, began calling for the missing man.

"Filthy half-blood is covering my Mistress' face!" the distinctive screech of Kreacher rang in their ears, the crotchety old house elf evidently affronted at seeing the image in the mirror split evenly between the two people trying to contact its real owner.

Whilst Harry growled and began muttering something about filthy, disobedient house elves who steal their master's things, Estella's keen eyes had picked up on something in the elf's other hand; something that was almost obscured by the mirror's limited field of vision.

"Kreacher," she said in a high-pitched voice of her own. "What's that in your hand?"

Kreacher's eyes narrowed into slits and he continued to glare at the side of the mirror that showed him Harry's reflection.

"Oh Mistress," he said with false sincerity. "Kreacher is trying to clean the blood off the desk. Master made a dreadful mess of his father's study… Kreacher is using Master's bloodied shirt. Left it lying on the floor, he did… torn and tattered like a rag."

Harry shared a solemn look with their surrounding audience and sightlessly gripped Estella's arm in silent support. The mirror slipped from the girl's hand, falling to the floor with a dull thud, as she started to shake.

"He can't be here… they couldn't have gotten into headquarters… he can't be here… this doesn't make any sense!" she mumbled incoherently, her eyes wide in shock. Though she had fully believed that her father was in danger when they'd left the school, the sudden mention of blood being spilt alerted her to the reality that her father was _hurt_. Her head still spinning from the gash she'd sustained upon her awakening, her mind was awash with conflicting thoughts; the brief moment of coherence she'd felt fled her mind.

Beside her, Harry bristled with barely contained rage, the boy turning swiftly and smashing his hand mirror against a shelf in his anger. No one stopped to consider that, perhaps, the missing Animagus had simply cut himself and had removed his mirror from his waistband with the intent of changing his bloodied shirt…

"Well that's it then," said Harry firmly. "He _is_ here…"

Subconsciously picking up on Estella's own fragmented line of thinking, Hermione was quick to voice her doubt.

"But just how could they have descended upon Headquarters and taken Sirius?" she asked, her brow furrowed. "Earlier, when you said Death Eaters had him, I assumed he must have left the safety of the wards…"

"The Fidelius has been broken before," snapped Harry darkly. No one dared to question him… all it would have taken was for one of Dumbledore's notes to land in the wrong hands, after all.

"All right then," the determined Gryffindor added, breaking the awkward silence that had descended upon them after he'd drawn indirect reference to the false sense of security that had seen his parents killed. "It's row ninety-seven. This way. Keep your wands ready."

They crept forward, glancing behind them as they went on down the long alleys of shelves, the further ends of which were in near-total darkness. Tiny, yellowing labels had been stuck beneath each glass orb on the shelves. Some of them had a weird, liquid glow; others were as dull and dark within as blown light bulbs.

"Prophecies that have already come to pass," muttered Estella, running her finger across the dusty label of one such orb and reading a date that was centuries old.

They pushed on.

"Ninety-seven!" Hermione read the silver-plated number on the next row.

Bypassing most of the neglected orbs in favour of heading straight to the end of the aisle, where Harry's false vision had taken place, the seven teenagers began searching for anything with Harry's name on it.

"There!" said Ron, pointing… no, _stabbing_, his finger towards an orb on a shelf just above Harry's eye line.

Standing back against the opposite shelf and standing on her tip-toes, Estella could just make out the spidery writing on the label if she trained her eyes hard enough. The date was listed as some sixteen years previously, which was in line with the timing in her mother's journal, and she recognised the initials immediately. Crossing the aisle, she took her place alongside Harry, nodding to him in encouragement as he hesitated and sought her eyes. No sooner had the teen's fingers closed around the orb, however, were they made aware of another person's presence.

"Very good, Potter. Now turn around, nice and slowly, and give that to me," the smug, drawling voice of Lucius Malfoy seemed to appear out of thin air until, suddenly, they found that they were surrounded by a dozen hooded Death Eaters.

"To me, Potter," repeated Lucius as he held out his hand, palm up. "Now!"

Pushing her fear aside, Estella moved slightly in front of Harry, her non-wand arm hanging loosely to the side closest to Harry, her wrist at a ninety-degree angle, palm cupped and resting slightly behind her. Years of catching a tiny Snitch giving him a proficiency for the slight of hand, Harry let the hand holding the orb drop to his side, out of the Death Eater's sight, before dropping the pearly weight into Estella's waiting hand.

Narrowing his eyes at the raven-haired girl between himself and his goal, Lucius took a step forward; this time his hand was held out towards Estella.

"Step away from this folly, Estella," said Lucius in an almost _kind_ voice. "You'll have no part in this. I won't have my son's prize _harmed_."

"Oh that's rich, coming from you," drawled Estella, edging away from his hand and backing herself into a bookshelf. "But if you are at all to be considered a man of your word, I suppose I can expect no harm if I…" she pulled the orb out from behind her and started to let go "…do this?"

_SMASH_.

Before wisps of the prophecy's contents could be divulged to the growing crowd of Death Eaters, Estella flicked her wand at the forming mist, banishing it from existence. Several of the Death Eaters began to shuffle nervously and scowl, but Lucius hardly flinched as he returned his attention to Harry once more.

"The prophecy, boy," he said, clearly not buying that Estella had just destroyed the real prophecy.

"I don't have it," said Harry stubbornly. "Estella dropped it – what are you going to do about it?"

"You're lying! You have it behind your back!" snapped Lucius impatiently. "Now give me the prophecy, or we start using wands."

"Go on, then," said Harry, raising his own wand to chest height. As he did so, the six wands of the three witches and wizards on either side of him rose to join his. "Don't do anything," Harry muttered. "Not yet-"

A woman, one of the Death Eater's closest to Lucius, began laughing raucously.

"You hear him? _You hear him?_ Giving instructions to the other children as though he thinks of fighting us!" she levelled her wand at Harry and shrieked: "_Accio proph-_"

"_Protego_!" Harry shouted, building a shield around himself before the woman could even finish casting.

"Oh, he knows how to play, little bitty baby Potter," the woman said, her mad eyes staring through the slits of her hood. "Very well, then-"

"I TOLD YOU, NO!" Lucius Malfoy roared at the woman. "If you smash it -!"

"Oh do tell us what your precious master would do to you if it were smashed…" said Estella, her lip curling into a sneer. "If he can't think of anything, I'll be happy to send him some ideas…"

At this point, Estella could feel the icy gaze of the woman staring at her. All too suddenly, she realised who it was.

"Bellatrix Black," she said, knowing the woman had married, but not particularly caring.

"Aw," leered the woman in question, giving Estella a shrewd look. "If it isn't my newest baby cousin…"

Her lip curling in distaste, Estella shuddered; the term 'baby cousin' being a near sacred endearment between the cousins in the family she _did_ associate with freely. Tilting her head in Lucius' direction she leered; "I would have thought my great-uncle did you a favour, scamming you with Narcissa's hand… she seems to be the sanest of the lot… but then we all know why that is…"

"_Silencio_!" Lucius Malfoy fired the spell at Estella quickly, but the teasing girl had seen it coming a mile off and dodged it. Beside the light-haired wizard, Bellatrix Black bristled at the implication of her own mother's impropriety.

"Don't you _dare_!" she spat at the youngest member of her extended family, her wand poised. "'Cissa's blood is purer than pure; our mother would never have defiled herself with anything less!"

"Pity you can't say the same for yourself," snapped back Estella, in what was a not-so-veiled insult about the purity of her husband's line: the Lestrange family were even more inbred than the Blacks, ensuring all manner of genetic displacements. Striking a chord within the deranged woman, Estella was, for once, abstractly glad for Lucius' vested interest in her; the possessive Malfoy patriarch intervening before the slighted witch could physically attack her.

"So tell me, what does Voldemort want the prophecy for? He already knows the first half-" said Harry, drawing attention away from Estella.

Several of the Death Eaters let out low hisses.

"You dare to speak his name?" whispered Bellatrix, throwing back her hood so that the true extent of her anger could be known.

"Of course," said Harry, "though you know if I were to really refer to VOLDEMORT by name, I would call him by the name given to him at birth-"

"Shut your mouth!" Bellatrix shrieked. "You dare speak his name with your unworthy lips, you dare besmirch it with your half-blood's tongue, you dare-"

"Did you know he's a half-blood too?" said Estella maliciously. "He was even named after his Muggle father! Or did you suppose 'Lord Voldemort' was actually on his birth certificate… or that he came out of a cauldron the first time as well?"

"STUPEF-"

"NO!"

A jet of red light had shot from the end of Bellatrix Lestrange's wand, but Malfoy had deflected it; his spell caused hers to hit the shelf a foot to the left of Harry and several of the glass orbs there shattered, causing a thick mist to swirl into the air.

"DO NOT ATTACK! WE NEED THE PROPHECY! _I_ NEED THE GIRL!" yelled Malfoy.

"He dared – she dared -" shrieked Bellatrix incoherently.

"WAIT UNTIL WE HAVE THE PROPHECY!"

The teenagers all looked to the Death Eaters, to the smashed glass of the orbs, to each other, and nodded in silent agreement. Waiting until Bella had entered into another of her tirades, Malfoy turning to face the woman completely and shake his wand at her in threatening, Harry nodded.

"REDUCTO!" seven voices bellowed, sending pointed beams of light hurtling towards the various points in the shelves that bore the weight of the structure. The supporting joists splintering and cracking with the impact, the shelves began to twist and buckle, the movement sending a hundred glass spheres rolling from their places and crashing to the floor. A shower of glass, splinters and fog filled the air.

"RUN!" Harry yelled, as the shelves swayed some more and additional orbs spiralled downwards.

Though they had momentarily gained the advantage and managed to get past the Death Eaters in all the confusion, they soon became separated; each person having run at their own sprint level. As they tore through the rooms, back to the circular room from where there were many different doors to hide behind, things went from bad to worse. Initially, they had only been split into two groups… but now they had broken off to try and find each other in various rooms, the seven-strong had split into pairs. That they had managed to incapacitate one Death Eater on their way out of the prophecy room was but a small comfort when over ten remained.

Lady luck was on their side, however, for the Death Eaters – impatient to retrieve the prophecy that they still believed Harry to have – had split up in their attempts to locate the teens. Slowly, the students began to find each other and regroup, finding their strength in their number. One by one, Death Eaters were picked off, with minimal retribution. In the room full of clocks, Harry had Stunned a Death Eater and sent them flying back into an unfortunate grandfather clock; and Hermione had done likewise.

The D.A.'s first casualty fell in a small cluttered office, just a few moments later. Reg had placed one Death Eater in a body-bind, and Hermione had silenced the other, who was trying to give out their location. Unfortunately for the teenagers, especially Hermione, they had been so caught up in the moment that none of them considered that the silenced man could still throw a non-verbal spell in their direction. A sudden slashing moment and flash of purple flame later, and Hermione was down for the count. Reg, who was closest to Hermione at the time, dropped to his hands and knees to see to their fallen comrade. Letting down his guard, he was in no position to avoid the kick to the head that the silenced Death Eater threw in his direction, breaking his nose. Estella twisted around, her own wand held high, and saw that the Death Eater had ripped off his mask and was pointing his wand directly at Harry; the pair of teenagers both recognising the long, pale, twisted face from the _Daily Prophet_: Antonin Dolohov, the wizard who had murdered the Prewetts.

Jabbing his wand at Harry in frustration, his fixation on not being able to communicate due to the Silencing Charm on him causing him to be just that little be slower on the draw, Estella acted fast and put the man into a Body Bind. Then, checking the fallen girl's vitals, she led the way whilst the two boys carried Hermione between them, each of them keeping a hand free for their wand, and headed back towards the circular room and, hopefully, their exit.

It was while considering which direction to choose when a door to their right sprang open, expelling their three missing people. All feeling of relief, however quickly replaced by concern when they noticed something not quite right with Ron.

"Ron!" croaked Harry, dashing towards them. "Ginny – are you all-?"

"Harry," said Ron, giggling weakly, lurching forwards, seizing the front of Harry's robes and gazing at him with unfocused eyes, "there you are… ha ha ha… you look funny, Harry… you're all messed up…"

Ron's face was very white and something dark was trickling from the corner of his mouth. Next moment his knees had given way, but he still clutched the front of Harry's robes, so that Harry was pulled into a kind of bow.

"Ginny?" Harry said fearfully. "What happened?"

But Ginny shook her head and slid down the all into a sitting position, panting and holding her ankle.

"I think her ankle's broken, I heard something crack," whispered John, who had been helping Ginny walk and was now bent over her, appearing unhurt. Looking up, his eyes sought out Estella's, and, seeing his friend unhurt, he seemed to relax ever so slightly. "Four of them chased us into a dark room full of planets; it was a very odd place, some of the time we were just floating in the dark-"

"Harry, we saw Uranus up close!" said Ron, still giggling feebly. "Get it, Harry? We saw Uranus – ha ha ha - "

A bubble of blood grew at the corner of Ron's mouth and burst.

"- anyway, one of them grabbed Ginny's foot, I used the Reductor Curse and blew up Pluto in his face, but…" John gestured hopelessly at Ginny, who was breathing in a very shallow way, her eyes still closed. "I don't even know _what_ they hit Ron with… it's been hard enough to get him along…"

"We've got to get out of here," said Harry firmly, his eyes flying to the two able-bodied boys amongst them. "John, if you can keep helping Ginny, Reg and I will carry Hermione-"

John deposited his wand in a holster on his sleeve so that the tip was still sticking out against his wrist, ready for use, and then moved to put an arm around Ginny's waist, to help her.

"It's only my ankle, I can do it myself!" said Ginny impatiently, but the next moment she had collapsed sideways and grabbed John for support. Estella pulled Ron's arm over her shoulder and looked around: they had a one in twelve chance of getting the exit right first time –

But their luck ran out. Discovered by three Death Eaters, the numbers may have technically been in their favour, but with their injuries to consider, they were vulnerable. Had they been Death Eaters, they could have abandoned their fallen comrades and fought for themselves quite competently, but no member of the DA could ever leave a person behind. It was just not in their nature… and the Death Eaters knew it, aiming for the defenceless as much as possible.

Running for a door and hoping for the best, they didn't have time to feel disappointment as they found themselves in a room full of brains. Knowing that he was the primary target – for the Death Eaters still suspected that he had switched the Prophecy and had it with him – Harry drew their attention away from his weary and injured friends, running out into the circular room again and picking a different door. He had been totally unprepared for the steep descent of stairs as he re-entered the large amphitheatre they'd searched earlier, and his resultant crash down the stairs had prompted Estella to tear through the door after him, her face white with concern.

She had just reached Harry, who was flat on his back in the middle of the sunken pit, next to where the veiled archway stood on its dais. No sooner had she helped him stand, was the room ringing with the Death Eaters' laughter: looking up, the teenagers could see that several of the Death Eaters they had stunned had been revived, the odds now five to one.

"Potter, your race is run," drawled Lucius Malfoy, pulling off his mask, "now hand me the prophecy like a good boy."

"Let – let the others go, and I'll give it to you!" said Harry desperately.

A few of the Death Eaters laughed. From her place at Harry's side, Estella felt the effects of her pendant burning. Mentally slapping herself, she realised that she could have avoided all of this if she had just thought to have them all touch the unassuming Portkey when they were all together. A wave of nausea sweeping over her as the potion she'd imbibed before they left began to wear off, she noted that she hadn't even paid attention to the heat the charmed necklace was giving off – she had truly been that distracted.

"You are not in a position to bargain, Potter," said Lucius Malfoy, his pale face flushed with pleasure. "You see, there are ten of us and only one of you… Estella get away from him, or you will not like the consequences!"

"Bring it on," said Estella, scowling. "If you want to get to Harry, you'll have to go through me first!"

"You foolish girl," said Lucius, with a mixed expression on his face. "I may have plans for you, yes, but my Master comes first – you are still expendable."

"I'll be sure to tell Draco," said Estella, "I'm sure he'll not agree."

Lucius Malfoy looked as though he had just been slapped, and it occurred to Estella that if the Malfoy patriarch could appear so threatened by Draco's sentiments towards Estella, then perhaps she held more influence over the boy than she had given herself credit for. Luckily for the two teenagers, Malfoy's poorly-timed moment of hesitation cost him dearly for, before he could react to Estella's comment, two doors burst open above them and five more people sprinted into the room: Sirius, Remus, Moody, Tonks and Kingsley.

Malfoy turned, and raised his wand, but Tonks had already sent a Stunning Spell right at him. Neither Harry nor Estella wanted to wait to see whether it had made contact, and so dove out of the way. The Death Eaters were completely distracted by the appearance of the members of the Order, who were now raining spells down upon them as they jumped from step to step towards the sunken floor. Instinctively moving into a defensive squat, the two teenagers took a brief moment to consider their options, now that they were momentarily out of the line of fire. Slumping against the cool stone wall of one of the terraced seats, Estella felt the adrenalin seep out of her. Tired and cold, her headache potion was wearing off – the suppressed feelings of her concussion returning full force.

"Whoever said taking up the piano was not a dangerous activity…" she said, rubbing at the tension building in her forehead, the back of her head feeling too tender to touch as it began to thrum with increasing intensity. She ducked as a stray curse hit the stone on the step above and grimaced at the noise. "…I beg to differ."

"Are you all right?" said Harry. Just then, he noticed her pendant glowing from where it had come out from underneath her shirt, now visible as it rested on the clasp of her robes. His face twisted into one of self-incrimination as he reached the same conclusions Estella had a moment earlier. Grimacing, he gestured towards the forgotten escape route. "Maybe you should use the Portkey-"

"No way!" said Estella, fiercely shaking the cotton wool from her head and looking at Harry determinedly. "Everyone I love is in this room – I'll not abandon ship!"

Harry, then, did not have time to argue with the girl as he was suddenly grabbed around the neck and pulled upright, so that his toes were barely touching the floor.

"Give it to me," growled a voice in his ear, "give me the prophecy-"

Looking around herself for help, Estella could see that they would be alone on this one. Her father was busy duelling with a Death Eater some ten feet away; Kingsley was fighting two at once; Tonks, still halfway up the tiered seats, was firing spells down at Bellatrix – all of them too preoccupied to notice their dilemma. Tearing her eyes away from the sight of all these people she respected fighting – fighting _well_ – Estella came to her senses and raised her wand.

"Stupefy!" she said, the slight buzzing of the concussion in her head making the spell lose its effect; the man taking longer than expected to let go of Harry and succumb to the Stunner. When the man did finally fall, she motioned for Harry to reapply the curse, gesturing to her head in explanation. "My head's screwing with my magic!"

Pulling Estella aside as Sirius and his Death Eater lurched past, duelling so fiercely that their wands were blurs – the look of concentration on Sirius' face to intense that he had all but completely unacknowledged their presence – Harry looked at Estella in concern.

"If your magic's affected, you really ought to go…"

"NO!" said Estella, pulling away from Harry and stalking backwards, promptly falling over an unconscious body.

It was Moody. Lying on his side and bleeding profusely from the head, his magical eye was missing and he was breathing shallowly. Harry jabbed his finger at the famed ex-Auror as though proving his point.

"See! Not even Moody was safe! You have to go!" said Harry desperately, but Estella stood firm, the recurring fear of being left on the sidelines whilst everyone she loved was getting killed enough to wretch a ragged sob from her.

Why couldn't they understand that she needed to stay? That she couldn't go back alone…

Just then, Moody's attacker lunged at them, a nasty curse flying from his lips as he levelled his wand at the pair. The teenagers quickly erected their shields… though Estella's was nowhere near strong enough to absorb the effects of the curse. Luckily for her, however, her father had appeared out of nowhere, ramming the Death Eater with his shoulder and sending the man – and his curse – off course. Now, Sirius was duelling with the displaced Death Eater, determinedly standing between danger and his children, vehemently protecting them as his wand flashed around like a sword.

Rushing to their guardian's assistance, Harry sprang up and threw a Body-Bind at the Death Eater at the same moment that Estella threw a Stunner. Knocked unconscious by the adrenalin-fuelled strength in Estella's spell, the Death Eater was unaware as his limbs snapped together, keeling over backwards to land on his back with an undoubtedly painful crash.

"Nice one!" shouted Sirius, turning suddenly and using his body to push both children aside, out of the path of a pair of Stunning Spells. "Now I want you to get out of-"

They all ducked even lower; a jet of green light had narrowly missed Sirius. Swallowing back a sob, Estella sucked in a breath and met her father's eyes. From her vantage point facing her father, she had seen the tell-tale light of the Killing Curse flying towards them and had dropped to the floor, pulling her father down with her. That he had come so close to dying had taken her breath away, and she started to shake. Looking beyond her father's shoulder warily, she grimaced as she saw Tonks fall from halfway up the stone steps, her limp form toppling from stone seat to stone seat and Bellatrix, triumphant, running back towards the fray.

"I'm sorry!" she started mumbling over and over, shaking her head; her hands still fisted in the front of her father's shirt from when she had pulled him down. Overwhelming guilt flooded through her as she realised how foolish they had been to not see the holes in Voldemort's fake vision. Had they not fallen for it, none of them would be there now, fighting for their lives.

Gripping a shoulder in one hand, Sirius gave his daughter a little shake. Reaching up to stroke the hair at the back of her head affectionately – knowing that it would soothe her – he jerked in alarm as the girl flinched, stickiness meeting his fingers.

"My God!" Blinking up at her father blearily, Estella had never realised it was possible for a person to pale so quickly. His eyes clouded with concern, her father had gone as white as a sheet. Turning to Harry, he could not manage to keep the shakiness out of his voice. "Harry, take Estella. Take her and run!" he yelled, before dashing up to face Bellatrix.

Seeing the fear in her father's eyes had brought a measure of sense to Estella. She could not keep up with her attackers, and the pain in her head was returning in full force. Staying would only make her father worry about her, and the distraction could likely prove lethal. Accepting Harry's assistance as the dizziness set in, her legs feeling like jelly underneath her, the teenagers were resigned to their fate and prepared to leave.

Before they could so much as both get a firm hold on the small Portkey around Estella's neck, they had drawn the attention of two Death Eaters… one, a sinister looking wizard with a pock-marked face, and the other, Lucius Malfoy. Bracing themselves for battle, they were relieved when the Death Eater closest to them was pulled into a duel with Kingsley, but still that left Malfoy.

"Estella!" shouted the familiar voice of her godfather, the man's voice sounding positively primal in its rage as its owner jumped between them, firing an impressive curse over his shoulder as he did so, one that hit Malfoy square in the chest and sent him flying back into the dais. Looking at the two teenagers analytically, he took a brief moment to reassure himself of his loved ones' safety. Gently running the tips of his fingers down the side of Estella's cheek, unwittingly tracing her tears, all traces of the feral fighting machine they had just seen gave way to the gentle and kind-hearted man they were all more acquainted with.

"GO!" he said to them urgently, nudging them towards the exit. "Find the others and get yourselves out!"

Nodding, Harry wrapped a supportive arm around Estella's waist, taking the pressure off of her shaky legs as they began to climb up the first tier of stone steps, now intent on getting all of the DA out together. Suddenly, a spell hit the stone bench beneath their feet; crumbling it out from under them and causing them to fall. When next they looked up, both teens drawing on each other for assistance as they regained their footing, the welcome sight of Dumbledore filled their heart with hope.

Directly above them, framed in the doorway from the Brain Room, stood Albus Dumbledore, his wand aloft, his face white and furious. Through all the relief and security that came with the man's presence, however, Estella could not help but dread how much of that anger would be directed at them when it came out that they had so foolishly walked straight into the Dark Lord's trap. A chance look in Harry's direction told Estella that Harry was thinking the same thing.

Dumbledore sped down the steps past Estella and Harry, who had no more thoughts of leaving. Dumbledore was already at the foot of the steps when the Death Eaters nearest realised he was there and yelled to the others. One of the Death Eaters ran for it, scrabbling like a monkey up the stone steps opposite. Dumbledore's spell pulled him back as easily and effortlessly as though he had hooked him with an invisible line –

Only one pair was still battling, apparently unaware of the new arrival. Suddenly, the rising cheer of seeing Albus Dumbledore in action was plummeted back into heart-stopping concern as Estella watched her father duck Bellatrix's jet of red light. Watching her father fight was something finer than a fluid ballroom dance… she'd seen her father and godfather give demonstrations before, yes, but seeing her father matching his opponent filled her with pride.

When the man started to laugh, however, Estella found herself narrowing her eyes in concern. If there were one thing her uncle had instilled upon her, it had been to never get too sure of oneself when facing an opponent. She cringed as her confident father began to goad his attacker.

"Come on, you can do better than that!" he yelled, his voice echoing around the cavernous room.

A sick feeling descended into Estella's stomach as she considered the likelihood that her father, assured by their favourable odds, was deliberately showing off. Placing one foot in front of the other with increasing urgency, Estella instinctively edged away from Harry and towards the duelling cousins. Catching sight of his daughter visibly approaching the danger he was trying to protect them all from, a stoic look of determination on her face, Sirius faltered in his goading of Bellatrix.

"Go!" he hissed out of the corner of his mouth, reaching out sightlessly and physically pulling his daughter behind him, where she would be safe. Focused wholly now on protecting his child, Sirius was suddenly back in the game; his eyes never leaving his opponent as the woman hurled a red jet of light towards him.

"Is that all you've got?" he quipped at his cousin, his bravado distracting him once more as he deftly dodged the stunner. What he didn't expect, however, was for the woman to follow up the relatively tame Curse with a '_Reducto_' aimed at the flagstone a few feet in front of him. Whilst his hastily erected shield was able to deflect the flying debris of shattered stone, the force of the explosion sent him sailing backwards, careening bodily into child he lived to protect.

Upon hearing his daughter's cry of surprise, Sirius whirled around just in time to see Estella stumbling back uncontrollably, her eyes filled with shock as she looked a him with a stricken expression. In his peripheral vision, he could see Remus and Harry leaping down the stairs, closing the distance between them, but only he stood a chance of breaking her fall. Feeling Dumbledore's eyes on him as the elderly wizard turned towards the scene, the old wizard's omniscience doing nothing to assist him the one time he needed the man's help most, Sirius flailed his arms out towards his daughter and grasped but a whisper of fabric, the edges of the girl's robes slipping through his fingertips as she was pulled back.

"No!" he choked out in barely a whisper; all laughter had died from his face now as his eyes found the pair so like his own, the fear and helplessness mirrored there flickering to sad resignation when it became apparent that the distance between them was too great; he could not pull her back in time.

It seemed to take Estella an age to fall: her body curved into a graceful arc as she sank backwards through the ragged veil hanging from the arch. A wave of nausea swept over Estella as the first shadows of the realm beyond the veil pulled at her soul, the last thing she saw as she fell through the ancient doorway and disappeared behind the veil being the shock and despair on her father's face.

'I'm sorry,' she thought to herself as she passed through the arch, tightening her grip on her wand and bracing herself for what would come next. She would have liked to have said the words aloud to her father, but it had all happened so quickly; as it was she had barely been able to cry out the spell that repelled her father away from her after he initially knocked her back, saving them _both_ from falling behind the veil that had been so precariously close to them both. More than anything, Estella wished she could tell her father not to blame himself, as she just knew he would be quick to do.

Realising, then, that she had neither landed or gained momentum in her descent, Estella found herself gripped with fear. Blinking quickly, she noted that the veil had closed before her without her even being aware, and she was now surrounded by darkness. The air was cold, but not unbearably so, and still; yet still she seemed to fall into the abyss. The whispers that she and Harry had heard earlier were again present, but surprisingly being behind the veil did little to help her understand what they were saying; in any event she was too distracted by what she _could_ still hear to pay attention.

Bellatrix's scream of triumph was muffled, but somewhat close. Feeling the wand still in her hand, Estella felt an undeniably urge to curse something, but held back for fear that the lack of any sort of discernable atmosphere might cause the spell to rebound and hit herself. Afraid that if she pocketed her wand, it might fall out without her being aware, she grasped it firmly in both hands and strained her ears to hear what was happening on the other side. Upon hearing Harry screaming her name, Remus' cry of alarm and her father's unrestrained _wailing_, she could not help but let out her own strangled sob. Part of her wanted to call out, converse with them in some way that would reassure them, but she highly suspected that if she attempted to communicate with her loved ones – or in fact anyone within the confines of the veil – the only thing that would be heard would be a unintelligible whisper.

Scowling to herself, fear overtaking her frustration as her wand failed to light at her command, Estella's eyes widened in surprise as she felt her pendant begin to burn.

'_Of course!'_ she said to herself, letting go of her wand with one hand to wrap her fingers around the small stone that her father had given her, and her uncle had later charmed.

"_Sanctuary_," she whispered hoarsely, squeezing her eyes tightly in hope as she waited for the familiar tug behind her navel.

Bellatrix's triumphant scream fell on deaf ears as Sirius slumped to the floor. As much as part of him held onto thehope that his daughter would simply reappear on the other side of the veil, he could not get the look on her face out of his head. Staring at his big, empty, incapable hands, his shock gave way to anger. He was just about to pull himself up and charge through the veil after his daughter when something stopped him. Some_one_ stopped him.

"Estella!" Harry screamed, causing Sirius' head to whip around, his mind wrapping itself around their loss.

Hearing Harry's protests, the broken words of his child's godfather dimly registered in his mind as he slipped deeper and deeper into despair. Hearing Remus Lupin admit that Estella was gone, did him in… a dam of emotion burst from within and he started to scream. His anxiety exerting a vice-like grip on his chest, Sirius gasped for breath, falling forward on his hands and knees, his limbs shaking with the onset of a full-blown panic attack. In his peripheral vision, he could see his child's godfather holding Harry back; the distraught Animagus abstractly commending his friend for keeping a hold of himself enough to be there for Harry.

'_I couldn't stop Estella, and now look at me!_' he scolded himself, shaking the oppressive fog from his mind as he pulled himself to his feet. If his best friend hadn't there to hold Harry back just now, the boy could have taken off behind the veil before he'd even regained control of his own faculties. Letting out an angered growl of self-loathing, Sirius was surprised to find his throat roar and voice hoarse from overuse. Harry needed him now, and it was selfish for him to allow himself to be consumed by his own emotion. He staggered towards his godson and friend.

"It's okay, Harry," he said, more to reassure himself than the boy who now looked at him with wide green eyes. Denial settling in, he seized on the trust inherent in the boy's look and clung to his own. "It'll take more than that to knock a Black down… we'll get her back…"

Pained though he was to admit it, Remus Lupin shook his head and cut his friend off before he could placate his godson with a hollow promise. Taking a firm grip of his friend's shoulders, his words came harshly and cruelly as he yelled at both of them, driving the point home once and for all; his voice cracking with his own grief by the time he was done.

Dumbledore, meanwhile, had most of the remaining Death Eaters grouped in the middle of the room, seemingly immobilised by invisible robes; Mad-Eye Moody had awoken and was crawling across the room to where Tonks lay, his wand out as he attempted to revive her. Behind the dais there were still flashes of light, grunts and cries – when Sirius had fallen to his knees, in shock, Kingsley had run forward to continue the man's duel with Bellatrix.

"Here," Remus' voice trailed off, the tenseness of his jaw and paleness of his skin remaining the only sign that he felt anything at all; years of keeping secrets and trying to fit in enabling him to cast aside his own debilitating grief to attend to the matters at hand. He rested a hand on Harry's shoulder and looked at Sirius meaningfully, but a shadow of helplessness flicking across his eyes as he noted that this was one pain none of them could take away from each other. "…Harry. Let's – let's find the others, Where are they?"

Remus turned away from the archway as he spoke. It sounded as though every word was causing him pain, but Sirius had to give the man credit for being able to form coherent sentences. Caught up in a moment of his own grief, he couldn't act fast enough when a loud bang alerted the teenagers to Bellatrix's triumph over Kingsley – the man's cries of pain the only thing that assured them of his survival.

Turning tail and running as the noise had turned Dumbledore's attention unto her, Bellatrix fled. Filled with a mix of adrenalin and strengthened by the solidarity his friend's presence had provided him with, Sirius shot up without warning and took off after the woman who had taken his daughter away from them all. Harry too, leapt up and joined the pursuit, Remus hot on his heels until he found his eyes lingering on the flimsy material fluttering about the archway. Holding back, the devastated werewolf took a moment to inspect the unassuming veil that had taken all that he lived and fought for. He wasn't aware that he was moving closer to the threshold of the netherworld; oblivious was he to his surroundings as he fixated on the whispering that came from beyond.

"REMUS!" A woman's voice startled him from his trance-like reverie, the man snapping back his hand in surprise as his fingertips whispered across the tattered fabric. He turned around slowly, somewhat startled, and peered across the room towards the voice. To the left of the dais, where Bellatrix's most recent victim had fallen, Tonks had been revived by Moody; the pair now seeing to Kinsgley's injuries.

"Get away from there, Lupin!" Alastor Moody snapped gruffly, the man's head never looking up from where he was bent over the fallen Order member. Despite this, Remus could feel the man's eye – the man's omniscient magical eye – watching his every move as he stepped down from the dais and approached them, dazedly.

Looking in the direction where Sirius and Harry had taken off after his goddaughter's… _cousin _(he couldn't quite bring himself to say 'killer', even in his mind) Remus contemplated his next course of action. He'd always imagined that in the event that harm befell his beloved cub, the wizarding world would find themselves with a wild werewolf in the middle of the lunar cycle. The fire of righteous anger had been aflame in Sirius' eyes, all right; much like it had been the night they had cornered Wormtail in the Shrieking Shack. But where Remus had been as equally bereft and capable of murder that night, now all he felt was emptiness.

When Sirius and Harry had spied Bellatrix making her escape and sought to intervene, Remus had begun to follow out of pure instinct. Seven years of school being firm friends with the likes of James Potter and Sirius Black, loyally following the leaders from one hair-brained scheme to another as a Gryffindor was wont to do, Remus had found it a hard habit to break. But where he was unsure of if he would have simply covered his best friend's back in a confrontation with Bellatrix Lestrange or been proactive in his own attack, one thing he was sure of was that there was one thing holding him back. The veil called to him, and for some inexplicable reason he couldn't bring himself to stray from the place he had last seen his goddaughter's face.

"Remus," an older, graver voice called to him softly, causing the plagued wizard to blink his eyes back into focus and look around him once more. There, slightly behind Tonks, Moody and the semi-conscious Kingsley was Albus Dumbledore; the man having completed restraining the remaining Death Eaters and was now regarding him with a forlorn expression. Upon seeing that he had gained the younger wizard's attention, he sighed. "Where are Sirius and Harry?"

"_Sectemsempra!_"

Sirius reeled around and gaped at his godson with wide eyes, the man torn between the paternal instinct to protect the boy and the small part of him that missed the child's father and wanted to encourage the traits that reminded him of his belated duelling partner the most. But then not even James was readily familiar with that kind of magic… or if he were, Sirius had never seen him use it. His questions were the last thing on his mind, however, as the dark spell hit Bellatrix square in the chest, knocking the woman off her feet, a crimson streak criss-crossing over her torso as the flesh was torn open. She began to scream, stopping only when Harry lowered his wand in surprise, and Sirius could not help but wonder, dimly, just what Dumbledore was permitting the students to learn in the self-proclaimed army Severus and Estella had cooked up.

"I'm impressed, boy," she yelled, quickly casting a healing spell on her person and standing up straight; the situation no longer something she could mock. "Did Daddy's precious little star teach you that one?" she leered at Sirius and clicked her tongue disapprovingly. "Such a pity, such a shame… I would have liked to have had the chance to taste what her Uncle Sevvie had taught her. She had _potential, _you know, Sirius. Surprising, really, when you consider who sired her…"

Sirius gripped the handle of his wand until his knuckles were white; his palms slick with sweat as he fought to deliver a curse heinous enough to give his daughter justice. Whatever he chose, he knew it would have to be non-verbal, for his throat was too constricted to form even the most simplest of words. Beside him, the Boy-Who-Lived radiated unadulterated rage, distinctly reminding the wrought Animagus of the time a spectacularly affronted 15-month-old decided to stage his first display of Accidental Magic. Casting a sidelong look in the direction of his now fifteen-year-old godson, the teen's jaw set in anger and posture rigid, _so like James_, he thought again, Sirius could only wish that the boy's anger this time was triggered by something as trivial and meaningless as his mother taking his toy broomstick away and forbidding James from giving him rides on his own.

"_Crucio_!" the boy in question yelled at the woman before them. Again, Sirius' mouth fell askew. When Harry's anger had reminded him of the boy's first display of magic, he had not been able to help remembering also how fond the toddler had been of the word '_No_'; hearing the curse of an Unforgivable on the child's lips was unfathomable.

"Harry, get back!" he snapped, realising straight away that the boy's attempt would not be strong enough to incapacitate his malicious cousin. His protective urges had won. "Get help!"

"I'm not leaving you," Harry ground out through clenched teeth, his eyes bright with unshed tears. "I lost her too!"

Having just nonchalantly sealing her wounds with a wave of her wand, Bellatrix laughed as the known Unforgivable seemed to have no effect on the woman. Recovering her strength, she stood and fired a counter-spell at Harry, which he dodged. It hit a statue behind them, blowing off its handsome head and sending it sailing over twenty feet.

"Never used an Unforgivable Curse before, have you, boy?" she yelled. "You need to _mean_ them, Potter! You need to really want to cause pain – to enjoy it – righteous anger won't hurt me for long – I'll show you how it is done, shall I? Give you a lesson-"

Bellatrix's sickeningly condescending voice was cut off as Sirius sent a Disarming Spell at the distracted woman, sending her wand flying out of her grip. The woman now looking to the father of her victim, her eyes betrayed a flicker of surprise. Maintaining eye contact, Sirius stepped in front of Harry, carefully stalking towards his intended victim.

"You always were easily distracted, Bella," said Sirius lowly.

"Well isn't that the Potter-lover calling the cauldron Black, hmm?" said Bellatrix in a sing-song voice, her face screwing up in fiendish glee as the old play on words hit home; her cousin knowing as she did that if he hadn't been distracted in their earlier battle, his daughter might not have fallen through the veil. Prancing around the pair of Gryffindors in a goading, predatory fashion, she jeered at the broken man she shared blood with. "So what are you going to do now you have big bad Bella's wand, you ickle-wickle S.O.B?"

Bristling as the deranged woman drawled out his initials as though they were insinuating of a grand insult, he fell into step.

"You wouldn't want dear Aunty 'Purgie hearing you calling me an S.O.B," he leered back, in reference to his late mother.

Bella grinned indulgently as the two cousins slipped back into a familiar, childhood banter.

"Of course, the woman never liked being called that either, so consider us even, cousin," said Bellatrix, as though either of them still had to answer to the deceased woman. Then again, with the Dark Magic Sirius knew Bellatrix to be capable of, turning his mother's corpse into an Inferi just to spite him was not completely out of the question.

"You're missing the point, Bella," leered Sirius, the nostalgic tone of their exchange distracting him from his grief. "I never said _I_ considered it an insult. As a matter of fact, I am inclined to agree that I _am_ a Son of a…"

Sirius' victorious win in the battle of words was cut off, however, by his godson falling to his knees, screaming in agony as he clutched his scar. The hairs on the back of Sirius' neck rose instinctively, and he felt as though he were back in Azkaban – helpless and with a round of Dementors about to make their sweep – as the presence of another person in the room made itself known.

"It was foolish to come here tonight, Tom," said Dumbledore calmly, emerging from the shadows of the elevator bay beside them just as Sirius laid eyes on the glinting red eyes of Lord Voldemort for the first time. "The Aurors are on their way-"

"By which time I shall be gone, and you will be dead!" spat Voldemort. He sent a Killing Curse at Dumbledore but missed, hitting the security guard's desk, which burst into flame.

Upon seeing the most lethal of curses being thrown around, Sirius grabbed Harry's arm and hauled him up, assisting the near-incapacitated boy towards the headless statue.

"Stay here," he said firmly, noting then that the boy must really be feeling the link to Voldemort when he did not argue with him. Doubling back, he rested a hand on the boy's shoulder and peered at the teenager in concern. "Harry, are you all right?"

"Lupin! Lupin!" Moody's voice was growling, not even the man's superficial injuries preventing him from taking charge of the situation. The morbid amphitheatre was full of official-looking wizards in full D.M.L.E dress; form-fitting Auror robes that were personalised with name and ranking. With 'suspected Death Eaters' still running loose in the bowels of the Ministry, it had been deemed too dangerous to permit entry to medical personnel. Basic first aid was being provided by those with triage certifications in their ranking, but the majority of the wounded needed to be evacuated. In this instance, the retired Auror was gesturing towards Tonks, who was busy brushing off the help of two of her squadron. "Get her out of here!"

Remus knew the importance of protecting the secrecy of the Order of the Phoenix. Whilst Scrimegeour's administration acknowledged the threat the arisen Dark Lord posed to society and was grateful for the intelligence Dumbledore's vigilante group could offer, it was not due process to publicise its alumni. Order members who were uncovered as such were indiscriminately targeted, and after seeing so many of his young friends fall fifteen years previously, he did not want the same for his goddaughter's cousin.

With one last fleeting look at the veil, he closed the distance between himself and the young woman. Placing a heavy hand on her shoulder, he was taken aback when his presence was welcomed by the young Auror leaning into him and crumbling into tears.

"It's time for us to go," he said quietly, embracing her awkwardly as he tried to steer her into an unnoticed corner of the room. The Apparition Wards had been lifted the moment the alarms had gone off, in order to enable the Aurors to respond promptly; it would now provide them with their exit. Preparing to Side-Apparate with the distraught, limping witch, he sighed. "It's over…"

"How could you say that?" snapped Tonks suddenly, pulling away from him with unseen strength; the habitually clumsy witch stumbling in pain when weight shifted onto her splinted leg. Out of habit, Remus reached out and grabbed the woman before she could fall, jolting with shock as he felt a ripple of anger towards his best friend course through him. _Why hadn't Sirius been able to stop her_?

Noticing the dark look that had crossed over Remus' face, Tonks stopped her tirade and levelled her eyes at the man she dared to love.

"There's… there's a rumour _He's_ in the building," she said in a shaky whisper; eyes darting back and forth as though fearing the said villain would suddenly appear. "Do… do… do you think… Sirius and Harry… not them too…"

Closing the distance between them once more, Remus embraced the woman, assuredly this time, and rested his chin on her forehead.

"Hush," he crooned, his heart aching as the act of giving support and comfort drew memories of soothing his goddaughter after she'd had a nightmare or some such fright. He swallowed heavily and found his voice again. "Sirius will look out for Harry…"

Neither of them doubted the man's determination to protect the children in his care, but after what had happened to Estella, they couldn't help but recognise that even good intentions had limits. Looking up at the man she had sought reassurances from, Nymphadora Tonks frowned at the werewolf's unconvincing tone. Rather than draw recent examples to light, she stared directly into the man's eyes.

"And who will look out for Sirius?" she asked pointedly, a slight edge of frustration in her voice as her bodily injuries betrayed her.

"Dumbledore," said Remus without hesitation. As soon as the old headmaster had learnt that Harry and Sirius had left to seek out Bellatrix Lestrange, the formidable wizard had cast a complex charm and Apparated away, silently.

"And if _He_ is there?" said Tonks, pressing on.

"Then _He_ will be wishing he was never born," said Remus ruefully. Between Sirius' infamous temper and Albus Dumbledore's equally notorious power, he didn't envy Tom Riddle one bit.

"And Bella?" Tonks spat, the hatred inherent in her voice not just from what the woman had recently done, but born from years of witnessing her own mother's anguish. She did not doubt that it was having sisters like Narcissa and Bellatrix that prompted Andromeda Black to deny her only daughter siblings.

Remus made a noise that was somewhere between a growl and a sob, his eyes glinting dangerously with renewed anger.

"That's one witch I wouldn't mind paying a visit to on a full moon," he said lowly. As a human he may allow his emotions to exercise restraint, but as a wolf… there was no telling what the next full moon would bring.

**END CHAPTER.**

**Next Chapter:** I know I haven't really been keeping to these dates, but the story is primarily in the editing stages so I feel confident in saying that the next chapter will be out this time next week. But then of course now that I've said that, I've probably gone and jinxed myself… in any event we're on the downhill stretch… thank you all for your patience.


	24. Beyond the Veil

**Updated: Tuesday 5th September 2006**

**Disclaimer: Nope, still not mine...**

**Chapter Twenty-four: _A Final Betrayal_**

Severus Snape glanced up from his marking and frowned. He had received word from Dumbledore less than half and hour earlier; Potter had received a vision from the Dark Lord and he and his merry band of followers had taken off on a whim to see if it were true. Unfortunately, the brash boy's latest escapade included his niece, and while he did not dislike the concept of his brother-in-law being used as any sort of bait, it grated at him that Estella had permitted her judgement to be swayed by her emotional investment; he thought he'd taught her better than that.

Casting aside any residual feelings of guilt he felt for ceasing to teach the boy the Occlumency skills that could have prevented the false vision – and thus Estella's folly - Severus returned his attention to the third year's essays. In light of all the perils Estella had landed herself in, Severus had taken measures to ensure that he would be able to detect the dangers as they crossed her path. He'd felt nothing an hour earlier, when Estella and Potter were thought to have left the school, and much like the fleeting false alarm he'd felt the night before his birthday, he could not quite put his finger on the girl's current state. Could she possibly be blocking him?

"Estella," he spoke to the empty room quietly, his eyes falling to a framed photograph on his desk that he largely kept disillusioned from visitors to his office. Inside the frame, a nine-year-old incarnation of his niece waved at him excitedly, proudly presiding over her cauldron as she'd posed for the photo she'd insisted he take. Seemingly of its own volition, a long, slender finger reached out to trace the outline of the frame. Whilst he did not have any concrete cause for concern, he could not shake the uneasy feeling. "What manner of mischief have you gotten yourself into, this time?"

Sighing audibly, the uncharacteristically weary wizard cast aside his marking and allowed his mind to focus whole heartedly on his niece. The relationship between himself and Estella had evolved into something he had never envisioned. He could not blame the child for endearing herself to two other men – a father and godfather, no less - who uninhibitedly wore their hearts on their sleeves; nor could he deny his own accountability for purposefully driving the girl away in times of late. But where Severus fell short in his reasoning, where he simply could not come to terms with the consequences, it was in the realisation that he had pushed the girl so far away that she did not think to come to him when she needed help.

Yes, it had been necessary to remain ambiguous as to his allegiances; the war was at a stage where not even Estella could be trusted to handle the truth. Of course, he knew that the child would never willingly betray him, but he did not want to risk the chances of her being used against him. Lucius may have been blinded by the girl's bloodlines and what a union between Estella and her son could secure for his family name, but there were other Death Eaters, equally ambitious, with an eye for sabotage. If it were to be known that his niece, a firm ally of her father and all _he_ stood for, still had an amicable relationship with him, then it would have pulled his reputation into disrepute. More importantly, in light of the task he had been enlisted to carry out, he had purposefully unravelled himself from his niece's life; imposing self-sufficiency upon the teenager in the vain hope that it would enable her to react more favourably in the fall out.

"Be careful what you wish for," he mused aloud, summoning a bottle of Fire Whiskey. The odd feeling that had swept over him had stopped almost as soon as it had began, and while it made him uneasy, he was wont to dismiss it, lest he over react. That is, of course, until his Dark Mark began to burn.

"Sirius, _Sirius_!" Albus Dumbledore appealed for calm. After an eventful confrontation with Voldemort in the atrium of the Ministry of Magic, the Order leader had created a Portkey, sending both child and godfather to the sanctuary of his Hogwarts office. He had followed them a few minutes later, after ensuring that the threat to the Ministry had diminished and the Death Eaters, secure, to find his office in disarray. Worn out from his possession by Voldemort, Harry sat dejectedly on a settee, staring sightlessly into the fireplace; he was seemingly oblivious to the destruction Sirius' rage was unleashing upon the room. Ducking a spinning top as it sailed over his head and slammed into the unforgiving stone wall – missing a disgruntled portrait by mere inches – the old man sighed and drew his wand, ensuring the man's compliance by magical means.

"What the hell…" Sirius swore, brooding seethingly as his body was coaxed into an armchair not far from his godson.

"Sirius, you need to calm down," said Dumbledore quietly. "By all means you can continue destroying my possessions at a later date – I daresay I have too many – but for now we have much to discuss. There isn't much time…"

"Isn't much time?" Sirius muttered, repeating the phrase over and over, his voice getting louder and more obtuse with each re-telling. "ISN'T MUCH _TIME_? WE HAVE ALL THE TIME IN THE WORLD -" he shook off the Compulsion Charm and stood, knocking over the small tea table in front of the chair "- GIVE ME ONE REASON! ONE! WHY I CAN'T JUST GET A TIME-TURNER AND-"

"You know the law, limiting the circumstances by which Time Turners can be deployed," said Dumbledore. "I daresay we have skirted the law enough in the past… but I am afraid, my friend, that there can be no undoing what cannot be undone…"

Sirius swore.

"I DON'T GIVE A HIPPOGRIFF'S ARSE WHAT THE _LAW_ SAYS!" snapped the fraught Animagus, who had now taken to loudly pacing the room and pulling at his hair. "And… and… AND DON'T CALL ME _FRIEND_! NOT WHEN YOU'RE TRYING TO TELL ME THAT IT CANNOT BE UNDONE!"

"Even if we _had_ a Time Turner, Sirius – which need I remind you, we do not – there are simply too many variables," said Dumbledore gravely. "What if changing things meant that someone else fell through the veil… had Estella not been standing there and repelled you, it would very likely have been you…"

"THEN SO BE IT! I'D RATHER IT WERE ME!" yelled Sirius, his voice cracking with emotion as he allowed his weary body to concede defeat and collapse in an armchair; shaky hands cradling his head.

At his godfather's affirmation, Harry's head shot up, an unreadable expression on his face. Noticing this, Dumbledore sighed.

"Would you really wish _this_ upon your daughter?" he asked. "She and Harry would have been separated in their time of grief, as there would have been no choice but for Harry to return to his relatives…" his voice trailed off, and he trailed a finger along his jaw in thought. "I am sorry, Sirius – and you, Harry – but Estella made her choice."

"Made her _choice_?" said Harry, suddenly, the overwhelmed teenager simmering with his own issues of guilt and grief. "It wasn't _her _choice that I didn't clear my mind before going to sleep! It wasn't Estella's decision to take off blindly for the Ministry! It was _my_ idea to keep going, even when we began to suspect it was a trap – it's all _my_ fault!"

Sirius looked torn between needling his godson for more information and rebuking the words of his former headmaster.

"My daughter would not have chosen death," he said finally, looking up at the man.

"No," Dumbledore conceded. "But she chose to save you from the same fate."

Just then, the door burst open, permitting entrance to two familiar faces.

"I came as soon as I realised you were back," said Remus apologetically, helping Tonks onto the settee, besides Harry. "I couldn't keep her in the Infirmary."

"My leg's _fine_," snapped Tonks, slapping his hands away. "It's crazy down there… I want to know what's going on just as much as you. Headmaster, there's got to be a way of getting someone out from the veil, right?"

Dumbledore looked pensive. Suddenly, four sets of eyes were studying him intently. Whilst Harry had been wallowing in his own self-incriminations and Sirius had been fixated on finding a Time Turner, no one had broached the question of just what the veil was, or if it could ever give back that which it took. Given its placement in the Department of Mysteries, and taking into account the dark nature of its inception, the chances were not in their favour; but when it came to the occupants in the room before him, and especially the girl whose absence was on all of their minds, Albus Dumbledore knew to expect the unexpected.

"Well?" Sirius ground out impatiently, mirroring his cousin's hope.

"I think it is time we inform Severus of his niece's misfortune," said Dumbledore quietly, conscious of events that had yet to come into play. "Her housemaster too; I imagine her friends are anxious for news…"

At the Headmaster's words, Harry swore softly and stood; driven by a sudden urge to be alone he bolted to the fireplace and conjured the flame that would permit him entrance to Ravenclaw's Keep. As one of only two people who could gain access to the hidden room in that manner, none of the startled adults could follow; their alarmed voices calling after him still echoing in his ears as he tumbled into the unique blue flames.

The first thing Harry saw as he fell out of the uniquely blue flames of the Keep's fireplace was the fallen piano stool, lying on its side just where Estella had left it last. His eyes flying to the instrument that had once brought the girl such solace, he was instantly filled with rage as he detected the faint smatterings of blood and hair where the back of Estella's head had impacted with the sharp corner on the underside of the keyboard. It had occurred to him with increasing clarity that had she not woken in such a way… had she not hit her head before all of this even began, she might had retained the presence of mind to see through Voldemort's ploy and talk sense into him, much like she usually did. Instead, her head had been fogged with pain and disorientation, her mind lost to her worry and panic: symptoms that had only been amplified by her fatigue, and helped along by his own foolish compulsiveness.

Not even bothering with his wand, Harry flung himself into destroying everything within his reach. Much like Sirius had done to Dumbledore's office, Harry threw whatever he could grab, snapped what could be snapped, and physically exerted his grief in upending the heavier furniture. When he came to the old, sturdy upright piano, however, he had cause to pause. Shoving aside the stool that already lay on its side, he knelt in its place and ran a hand over the smooth ivory keys, a choking sob making its way out from his throat as he contemplated life without the girl who helped show him the meaning of family.

Harry didn't know how long he'd knelt like that, succumbing to his tears; by the time he next came to his senses his knees were aching, the cold of the stone beneath the thin layer of robes seeping to his very soul. Rocking back onto his heels, Harry shifted his weight and slumped closer to the floor. A hand landing close to the place Estella had fallen from her stool, his eyes flew open in recognition when his fingers came across something soft. Gingerly plucking the distinctive red feather from where it lay sandwiched between the flagstones and his hand, he came to a realisation.

"Fawkes…" he muttered.

The unreadable face of Severus Snape had just vanished from the office fire, the man pressed for time as he prepared to answer the summons of his other master, when Harry tumbled back out onto the hearth, breathless. Taking in the boy's dishevelled appearance and, particularly, his bruised hands, Sirius was immediately alert.

"Harry… what… what happened? Where did you go?" he asked. While he had been informed of Estella's frequent, secret meetings with Benson Ollerton in the castle as they worked together closely in devising the customised broomstick for the Order, he had not given much thought as to _where_ his daughter was able to work in such privacy. He'd heard casual reference of 'the Keep' between the two teenagers, of course, but it wasn't until Harry disappeared into the flames, unable to be followed, that Sirius had sought a complete explanation.

Harry shook off his godfather's concern, batting away the man's hands as he tried to inspect the injuries he'd unwittingly acquired in his grief-induced rage. Making a beeline for the headmaster's desk, he stood before the wizard who sat at its helm and slammed down the Phoenix feather for all to see.

"Estella is _not_ gone," he said firmly, green eyes ablaze with determined conviction as he gestured to the feather meaningfully. "Fawkes would not have chosen her if this was her fate!"

Dumbledore looked thoughtful for a moment before nodding once, imperturbably. His eyes moving from the feather Harry had found, to the gathering group of adults who had since stood and clustered around behind the boy, he fixated on one man in particular.

"I believe, dear boy, that you may have a point," he said blithely, his eyes not leaving those of Remus Lupin. "In all the excitement, I must confess that I had overlooked that little fact… thank you, Harry."

"What are you talking about?" asked Tonks, looking between all the men in the room and frowning at the various levels of comprehension she'd found there. Of those present, only Harry and Dumbledore were attune with precisely what the relationship between Estella and Fawkes meant. Remus and Sirius were vaguely aware that the Phoenix had 'chosen' Estella at the meeting that day, but they hadn't pushed for details, the pair content in knowing that the bird would look out for the girl they loved. Harry, meanwhile, had witnessed more interaction between girl and bird than what the others had seen; subsequently indulging his patented Gryffindor curiosity by asking her the pressing questions. As Dumbledore, then, endeavoured to explain the nature of the bird's decision – leaving out the imminence of his own demise – they all reached the same conclusion as Harry.

"Alas," said Dumbledore, disliking his role as bearer of bad news, but pushing on nonetheless. "Whilst it can be determined that Estella is alive beyond the veil, I am afraid that very little can be done to get her _back_."

Sirius buried his head in his hands and sighed. Confronted with the idea of his daughter spending eternity in an unknown realm, forced to be alone and endure goodness knows what, he didn't know what fate was worse.

"I never thought I'd say it," he said haltingly, "but I think I'd have preferred death."

A look in his friend's direction showed that Remus had considered a similar thought, the quiet werewolf looking contemplative as he turned and stood in front of the fireplace, losing himself in watching the flickering of the flames there. Also watching the man in question very carefully, Albus Dumbledore made a decision. He cleared his throat.

"I do, however, have a theory…" he said carefully, willing the sandy-haired wizard to turn and face him; once the wizard had felt eyes on him and turned questioningly, he continued. "Remus, may I ask what your instincts were calling upon you to do in the moments after… after… Estella fell?"

Remus blinked. Wrapping his mind around the headmaster's surprising question, and struggling to word his reaction in a way that could both be understood and delivered impassively, he paused.

"I don't know," he said slowly, still at odds with the strange yearning that had filled him since the moment his niece had disappeared. "By all means I ought to have been as enraged as Sirius… and Harry. Merlin knows I could very well have killed Peter that night…" his voice trailed off, and he ran a hand over his face; this was not coming out like he had imagined.

Seeing that the others were patiently waiting for him to continue, he took a deep breath. "I wanted to follow," he said in a stage whisper, head bowing slightly. Raising his head suddenly, he locked eyes with the headmaster and frowned. "I still do."

"Remus!" said Tonks, aghast at the implication that the man she had feelings for would be so inclined to throw his life away in his grief.

Remus snapped his neck around to consider the woman's stricken expression. He rushed to explain.

"It's not like _that_," he said, shaking his head. "I don't understand _what_ it is… I can't explain it…" he looked back at Dumbledore, imploringly. "It calls to me now, even now… much like how…" he paused, frowning at the realisation; "…much like how I can feel the moon calling to me in the days leading up to the full moon…"

Apparently, Remus had said precisely what the Headmaster had wanted to hear. The man nodded once, curtly, and sighed as the others looked to him in question.

"It is as I suspected," he said cryptically, beckoning for Remus to take a seat. "I apologise to you Remus… to you all, in a respect. This is something I ought to have shared with you when it first occurred to me… but understand that it was at Estella's insistence that I said nothing-"

"If something was kept from me at Estella's insistence, perhaps you ought to still honour that," said Remus automatically, making to stand again.

Dumbledore gestured for him to retain his seat.

"I assure you, Remus, that I am not disrespecting Estella's reasons," he said. "Though I daresay she would understand under these circumstances… specifically that its explanation would best account for what you are feeling right now, Remus, and provide us with an avenue that I venture would otherwise be impossible."

"What are you saying, Headmaster?" said Sirius impatiently, standing behind his friend's chair and resting a hand on the man's shoulder in silent support.

"There is hope for Estella yet," he replied, his eyes landing on Remus once more.

Severus Snape stared blankly at the fire, the news that had just been imparted to him via Fire Call still struggling for a hold in his mind.

Estella. Gone.

A row of antique glass vials on the mantle shattered with the power of uncontrollable magic, the normally contained wizard struggling to control his emotions. Instantly, his distaste for the likes of Sirius Black and Harry Potter returned to outright hatred, an amnesty he had begrudgingly cooperated with out of respect for his niece disappearing with the part they indirectly played in the girl's demise. Black, he concluded, would have been better off staying in Azkaban, and had Potter continued to believe that Estella's father had betrayed his parents, his niece would never have followed him so blindly. Yes, had Estella remained solely under his care and influence he'd have likely have had to enforce a union between his niece and Lucius Malfoy's son both in order to retain favour and ensure their safety; yet whilst he did not want a loveless marriage for his niece, it was more favourable than an early – and empty - grave.

Feeling his Dark Mark continue to burn, Severus cleared his mind and squared his shoulders. His niece's words echoing in his head, he transfigured his standard teaching attire into restrictive Death Eater robes and summoned the horrific white mask.

'_Yes'_ he said to himself, in answer to his niece's words. He did have a job to do, and loath as he were to admit it, his niece's untimely departure had taken with it all of his misgivings.

It was time to get the job done.

"The Time Turner didn't _really_ work?" said Sirius in a faint voice, eyes wide as he looked at his friend in a slightly different light.

Albus Dumbledore had just explained to them the complexities of time management, specifically how some things just could _not_ be undone in their entirety. As Estella had duly suspected, Remus had taken the revelation of their unique bond spectacularly hard, the nature of the closeness he had cherished with his goddaughter now under his self-deprecating scrutiny. It was Harry who noticed the man's inner-turmoil first.

"Moony," he said firmly, the tone of his voice drawing Sirius out of his own thoughts, the pair of them now looking at Remus in concern.

Remus Lupin stared down at his hands in guilt.

"I – I – I…" he stammered, blinking away tears. "None of it was real… was it?"

"Of _course_ it was real!" snapped Harry.

"I couldn't have wished a better godfather for my daughter," said Sirius determinedly, squeezing the man's shoulder firmly. "And I've a feeling this is exactly why Estella didn't want you to know – she didn't want you to second guess what she wouldn't have any other way."

"Two questions, Headmaster," said Harry shrewdly, looking up from Remus to stare at the older wizard in question. "How did Estella find out herself, and why are you telling us now?"

Dumbledore frowned slightly, knowing that now – nor any other time – was not an appropriate setting for uncovering the encounter the missing girl had had with Fenrir Greyback.

"How Estella reached her rather astute conclusion is not of importance at this time, and I wish to uphold her confidence in this matter," he said, noting sadly that he had done enough in revealing that Estella had kept secrets from them at all. "As for why I am telling you now, I believe that the unprecedented bond between the two are key in finding her beyond the veil…"

"And getting her out?" said Sirius, eyes narrowing.

His finger trailing his bottom lip in consideration, Dumbledore paused.

"That, my friends, is where I find myself unable to answer," he turned to Remus, his expression grave. "I am afraid, dear Remus, that I must ask you to make an unthinkable sacrifice."

"If it's to help Estella, I wouldn't consider it a sacrifice," said Remus stoically; he hadn't been sorted into Gryffindor for his looks. "What do I have to do?"

"I need for you to go beyond the veil."

"It's been _hours_!" Even though Madam Pomfrey had done her best amidst a ward full of patients, Reg's voice still held a distinct nasal quality to it. Assessed to be of able mind and body, he had been discharged to the Ravenclaw Common Room, where he was now in the care of his friends. Tilting his head back against the back of the sofa and re-applying the Ever-Cool Compress over his still-tender nose, his voice came out muffled. "Where is she?"

John, who had been pacing furiously in front of the fire, his eyes never too far away from the narrow bookshelf that served as entrance to the room, wrung his hands out for the millionth time.

"Something's wrong… I just _know_ something's wrong," he muttered, more to himself than to his friends. Turning to Reg, he shook his head in exasperation. "Why did Harry and Estella not come back with the rest of us? There were enough Aurors to go around…"

Once Aurors had arrived on the scene to find that Dumbledore had already secured all of those Death Eaters, a contingent of officers had been charged with the duty of Side-Apparating the misplaced students to Hogsmeade, and accompanying them to the school. Those amongst the number who were injured, however, had travelled directly to the hospital wing via 'more secure means', but having just returned from the chaotic ward, they knew that Harry and Estella were not amongst the injured.

"I can't believe you even took off to the damn place anyway!" snapped Elsie, who was curled up on the far end of the sofa with Estella's Kneazle, Skunk, balled up on her lap. The girl was still seething about being left behind, though she maintained that it was an entirely ludicrous idea and she wouldn't have wanted to go anyway. "Now if only you had told a _teacher_ about Harry's dream, we wouldn't be in this mess!"

"We're not in any mess!" snapped Reg, wrenching the compress away from his face to twist his neck and glare at the girl beside him. "_We're_ perfectly fine! It's Estella and Harry who are buried in Merlin knows what…"

Reg's voice trailed off as John broke his rhythm and took off abruptly in the direction of the exit.

"John, where are you going?" he called after his friend, resting his cold compress on the arm of the couch and rising to his feet hastily. "We were told to wait here-"

"I don't care, I can't handle this!" said John, calling over his shoulder as he drew his wand and approached the bookshelf that covered the exit to the Ravenclaw tower, the indignant fourth year oblivious to the curious stares he got from the clusters of students whose study he'd disturbed as he breezed past their tables.

Elsie gently extricated the clingy Kneazle from her lap and stood alongside Reg. Exchanging a look, the pair stumbled over their feet – and each other – as they rushed to follow.

The trio were red-faced and breathless by the time they reached the entrance to the Headmaster's tower on the seventh floor, the large stone gargoyle having just closed behind two of the people they most wanted to see.

"Mr Black! Professor Lupin!" the teenagers called after the two men, halting in their tracks when they saw the men's forlorn expressions. Their former Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher looked weary and preoccupied, the peculiar hard set to his face reminiscent of the sad, resigned look he wore when he had realised that one of his classes were not about to grasp the concept of his lesson. Beside him, Estella's father looked even worse; new lines appeared to have been drawn on his face since they'd last seen the man properly, and his eyes were dazed and bright with unshed tears. Meeting the pair's eyes, they were instantly regretting having sought their attention. Things did not look good, at all.

"There you are!" a small, squeaky voice called out to them, the quick rush of distinctive footsteps heralding the arrival of their head of house. Three heads turned to look down upon the vertically challenged man as he brandished an admonishing finger at them. "I have been looking for you! You were not to leave the common room… now come along, let's not bother Mr Black and Professor Lupin at this time."

The children dared not to look back at the two men whose faces said so much, instead bowing their heads and walking off in the direction of Flitwick's office, the man stepping aside and pointing them along as he apologised profusely to the parental figures in Estella and Harry's lives.

"I'm terribly sorry, gentlemen," said Flitwick awkwardly, the dwarfed man at least having a physical reason for not looking the two men in the eyes as he spoke. Bustling along behind his three fourth years, he took off after them at a light trot, his smaller legs struggling to keep up. "Come along children… to my office… I will endeavour to explain…"

"Moony, this is crazy," said Sirius pleadingly, their return to the dark, empty amphitheatre sending chills down his spine. "There's no telling that you'll be able to find her, and we've no way of getting either of you back-"

"I have to do this, Padfoot," said Remus brokenly. Gesturing towards the veil in spite, he shook his head. "Its call is stronger now."

"No offence, Remus, but if Estella didn't want _me_ following her into the veil as we were both flung back by Bella's spell, what makes you think she'll be happy to see you resigning yourself to that fate?" said Sirius reasonably. "I know it hurts, Moony… Merlin, I _know_. But we've already lost enough… _I've_ already lost enough-"

"This isn't about you, Sirius," said Remus lowly, rolling his shoulders as he physically braced himself for the unknown.

Sirius opened his mouth as to say something, but then stopped.

"You're right," he said in defeat. Quietly, he added; "it should be _me_, though… don't you see? What if… what if she thinks… what if she thinks I _wouldn't_? That I didn't _want_ to?"

"Harry needs you," Remus reminded him. The boy himself was not with them to do so; at the same time the two marauders had left for the Ministry, Dumbledore had departed with Harry, bound for the location of a suspected Horcrux, the elder wizard intent on fulfilling a promise. He clapped a hand on the man's shoulder and looked at him levelly. "Estella knows… Sirius, she knows. I'm the only one with a chance of finding her beyond that thing, and you know it. I can't leave her there to be alone anymore than you can…"

"I know you think more of her than this, but she is _only_ your goddaughter – you have a good thing going with Tonks, and need I remind you that _Estella_ had tried to set you two up just as much as the rest of us. Are you really willing to give that up for something we don't even know will work?"

"Estella comes first. Tonks has always been aware of that," said Remus, too tired to enter into the argument of just how close he and the young Auror really were. "Let me go, Sirius. I can't explain how I know, but I just have a feeling that it's for the best…"

Sirius embraced his friend for what could very well be the last time. Holding back a sob, he placed his hands on either side of the man's face and stared directly into his eyes.

"I really meant it, you know," he said. "I really couldn't have wished a better godfather for my daughter."

"Thank you," whispered Remus. He doubted that Sirius would never really realise just how much it meant to him to hear those words.

"No, thank _you_," said Sirius, sadly. The man was positively riddled with all manner of guilt. Here was a man he had the audacity to doubt when James and Lily Potter had been under threat, and yet all along he was the best friend anyone could have wished for. There wasn't time, however, for Sirius to put his appreciation into words; the guards who had taken to guarding the many rooms within the Department of Mysteries would soon return from their 'distraction', and there would be no way they could fulfil their purpose if they were to return.

Remus Lupin backed away towards the veil and smiled at his friend in reassurance.

"Remind Harry to keep his wand level, and mind clear," he said casually, as though he were still a professor issuing homework advice. Stepping towards the archway that called to him inexplicably, he looked back one last time. "Don't worry, my friend. I will find her..."

'_Or spend eternity looking…'_ he added to himself before he took a deep breath and answered the veil's call.

Estella snapped her eyes open in surprise. Once she'd established that neither her wand, nor her Portkey would work, she'd lost all sense of time. The noise back in the 'real world' had long since petered into an inaudible hum of pacing footsteps and the odd idle whistle. She had heard the order to place guards in the Department of Mysteries and had become accustomed to their coming and going. Upon hearing the familiar voices of her father and godfather, however, she arched her ears to listen.

"No way," she whispered fervently to herself when she caught on to what her godfather was about to do. Whilst it heartened her to think that the people she loved had wanted to take lengths to ensure that she would not, at least, be left alone, her father was right; she wanted more for her godfather. Calling out for them to stop only served to embolden her godfather's resolve. She guessed then, that he probably couldn't hear her words, rather just sense her presence, so she held her breath.

It was no help.

The moment Remus Lupin stepped through the archway, Estella knew it. She didn't know how – for she could still see nothing because of the dark – but she _knew_. When he began calling her name, and his voice was not muted into an inaudible whisper, Estella realised that there was, perhaps, something to the man's actions.

"Moony?" she said hesitantly, her eyes wide when the man responded at an even closer range.

"Hello, _cub_," said Remus Lupin, eyes shining with tears as he inexplicably found himself with his goddaughter in his arms.

Relishing the sensation of feeling something solid once more, and paying no mind to just how it had been possible for them to find each other in this strange place they found themselves in, Estella burrowed her face into her godfather's robes, savouring everything about him.

"He told you, didn't he?" she asked suddenly, looking up at him, but unable to see his face.

Remus held onto his goddaughter tightly and nodded into her hair. It was disturbing how they could be so close and yet so unable to lay eyes on one another. He had been so determined a while earlier, to do whatever it took to be with his goddaughter, but now he had her in his arms and was unable to see her, he didn't know how he would cope.

Confused by the man's silence, Estella frowned and pushed away from her godfather slightly.

"Why did you come?" she asked suddenly, a slight growl to her voice. "I heard you and Dad out there - you have no way of getting us back – how could you just throw everything away like that?"

"I'm surprised you even have to ask," said Remus quietly, pulling her to him tightly once more and muttering into her hair, deeply inhaling her scent. His next words were hoarse with raw emotion. "Oh Estella, do you not realise how much this, right now, means to me? When you went through that veil, I never thought I'd get to hold you in my arms again. I couldn't let you go… I didn't have a choice…"

"Yeah, well now you get what you want for all _eternity_," growled Estella, growing restless. "What about Tonks? Huh? How could you just leave her like that?"

"Tonks has her family… your father… not to mention Harry," said Remus beseechingly. "You were here all alone…"

"Oh, well, you know me," said Estella wryly. "Between my music and my imagination, I am quite capable of keeping myself occupied for hours on end. Besides, the conversation from the other side is rather interesting, especially when the people involved don't realise we can hear them. Do you know they've stationed round the clock guards out there? I couldn't be more protected…"

Remus detected the dry sarcasm in his goddaughter's voice and felt his anxiety leave him at her levity.

"Hang on," he said suddenly. "Do you mean to say you can hear what's going on _out there_?"

"Well I could if someone wasn't in here with me, chewing my ear off," said Estella pointedly. A moment of silence followed as they both paused to listen. "Dad's pacing… as Padfoot…"

"You can hear that?" said Remus in a surprised tone. His werewolf senses allowed for certain liberties, but the soft padding of the anxious Animagus was almost indiscernible to his own ears.

"They say that when you lose touch with your other senses, those that do remain move to compensate," said Estella nonchalantly; she'd had longer than him to grow accustomed to the lack of sight and, until recently, scent and feel. Closing his eyes in memory, Remus could almost see the girl shrug. "Say, how long have I been in here?"

"Almost a full day, I think," said Remus distractedly, his mind drifting to the friend he'd left on the other side, the man's pacing beating on him like a drum. What if Sirius got impulsive and decided to follow?

Resting her forehead against his chest – the pair reluctant to relinquish physical contact entirely, lest they lose one another in the void – Estella came to the same conclusion.

"How long is he going to stay out there, pacing?" she said in a small voice.

"I don't know, cub," said Remus softly, pulling his arms around the girl again, to reassure them both.

"We have to get out of here," said Estella decisively, her voice quiet and muffled from where she had burrowed into his robes, but determined all the same.

"He was definitely hiding something," said Elsie in a huff. The trio of Ravenclaws were now crowded in the fourth-year girls dormitory, their head of house having given the boys special permission to be in there. Elsie sat on the edge of Estella's unmade bed, distracting herself with her friend's pet Kneazle lest she succumb to the compulsive urge to straighten up the absent girl's bed.

John and Reg looked up from where they sat cross-legged on either side of Estella's trunk, their wands lowering as they ceased summoning Estella's things from around the room and levitating them into one pile. Flitwick had been decidedly cagey in his explanation, vaguely telling them that Estella would not be returning to the school and charging them with the duty of packing her things. With only a few weeks left of school, the idea that Estella and Harry might not see out the remainder of the term was not entirely implausible, but it was what the nervy Charms teacher had said – or didn't say – when asked about the following Fall term that had them worried.

"What could have happened anyway, that she couldn't even come back and pack her own things?" mused Reg, a sickly pallor to his face as he began categorically sorting through Estella's unfinished homework. "She wouldn't just leave without saying goodbye…"

"Perhaps she is unavoidably detained at the Ministry," suggested Luna, looking across the room at them from where she was lying across her own bed, on her stomach, flicking through a Charms text. Beside her, sat her Gryffindor mascot hat, it's animated lion's head periodically opening its mouth to roar silently – her roommates having long since politely convinced the girl to keep the hat silenced between Quidditch matches. She was currently trying to find a Charm that would enable the lion to talk, like the Sorting Hat.

Three sets of eyes narrowed at Luna in surprise; when their strange, yet inquisitive housemate got involved in her research, she very rarely was aware of things going on around them – or so they thought. Exchanging questioning looks amongst themselves, none of them could specifically recall mentioning their escapade to the Ministry, only that Estella had disappeared.

"What do you know about the Ministry?" said John pointedly.

Luna looked up from her book, nonplussed, and gave John a sceptical look.

"The walls have ears," she said in all manner of seriousness, peering at them through her big round eyes as though surprised that they were not previously aware of that fact. "The walls at the Ministry have ears too."

"_Right_!" John mouthed slowly, turning his face towards his friends so that Luna would not see him rolling his eyes.

It had been all over the school that morning that a group of students had left the school in the middle of the night and had been brought back by a contingent of Aurors. Whilst the continued absence of two of those students had not escaped attention, many were inclined to believe that they were either in a secluded section of the Hospital Wing, or being duly punished for their misdeeds in another part of the castle. The Slytherins, in particular, had delighted in letting their twisted minds run wild, devising a great number of torturous scenarios that best accounted for the absence of not only Harry Potter and Estella Black, but their head of house as well. The news of Severus Snape previously tearing through Gryffindor Tower in search of his niece had already entrenched itself in Hogwarts folklore, and so the rumours about the nature of the pair's relationship were already abound, readily bought by all who did not know either teenager best. Asides, then, from the rather lewd assertions of the Slytherin students, the student body were otherwise too preoccupied with other things to really pay the situation much mind; so it was surprising to hear the Ministry being mentioned.

"What have you heard?" asked Elsie. Having only heard of the adventure second-hand herself, she was curious to know what her roommate had heard, and how she had heard it.

"I haven't heard anything, I just know what my father wrote me in his letter," explained Luna, closing her book and sitting up on the mattress to reach for a piece of parchment in a drawer by her bed. "He was at the Ministry when the Aurors were called; he had been visiting out of hours to try and find a live Dust Bunny in action…"

"A _what_?" spluttered Reg.

"A Dust Bunny," said Luna matter-of-factly, adjusting her position so she was seated cross-legged on the edge of the bed closest to them. She casually gesticulated with her hand. "Well, they have a more complicated scientific name, but no one can ever pronounce it – I'll write it down for you if you like, then you may recognise it…"

Three heads shook their heads, no. Luna continued.

"Well I tried to tell my Daddy that I have one under my bed – it really seems to like my Potions homework – but he wouldn't listen. He said to me that at the rate the Ministry loses track of all its paperwork, there ought to be an entire colony of Dust Bunnies in the Ministry's archives," she ignored the incredulous looks on her housemate's faces and clasped her hands in her lap. "They eat paper, you know. Distant cousin to the Plot Bunnies that crawl in people's ears and possess them to write fiction. That reporter from the Daily Prophet, is suspected to have the longest-running infection. Anyway, the Ministry archives are not too far from the Department of Mysteries. Same level, I believe… on the odd days of every third month at least…"

The three shared another look, each unable to confirm if they had in fact passed any sort of filing room on the floor in question. But there _had_ been many doors that they had left unchecked. John spoke up.

"So your father was actually there?" he said in a voice barely above a whisper. Whilst none of them truly believed that there was ever such thing as a paper-eating Dust Bunny – or in fact most of the creatures Luna invariably wove into any given conversation – they could not readily dispute that her father had been present at the Ministry; the girl seemed to know too much.

"Did I not say that?" said Luna, a genuinely bewildered expression on her face.

"Is he okay?"

"Of course he's okay, the Dust Bunnies only attack paper, after all," said Luna, reassuringly. "Alas, all the disturbance down the hall kept him from capturing any specimens…"

By the time Luna was done imparting the information that her father had supplied her with in his letter, the teenagers were at a loss as to whether or not they should believe what the man had written. Reg and John both remembered the veil from the eerie amphitheatre they had come across during their exploration of the Ministry; the boys exchanging a look as they realised it had been where their friend was last seen heading.

"It's just a ratty curtain covering an archway," said Reg, his voice booming with false bravado. "In one side, out the other… right John?"

John, however, looked pensive. Elsie had given up trying to hold a now restless Skunk on her lap, and had pulled her friend's scruffy old stuffed toy close.

Luna continued.

"My mother knew about the veil," she said in a conspiring tone. "It called to her, too… she was not of this realm, you see." She ducked her head and peered around the room suspiciously. In a low voice that prompted the others to lean towards her, she nodded with an air of confidence. "They say that once behind the veil, you can't get back – but I know Estella will. Professor Lupin will find her and bring her back."

"Are you suggesting that Professor Lupin's going to go behind that thing, voluntarily, to look for her?" said John, slack-jawed. "Even if you knew for sure that's what was going to happen, what makes you think it would work?"

"Because he's a _werewolf_, remember?" said Luna simply. "If anyone can find her, he can. They've bonded, you know…"

"Uh, right," said Reg, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. No one even knew for sure if a werewolf _could_ find someone they cared about in their human form, let alone if their former professor was even contemplating such an expedition. He looked to his friend for back up.

"Well okay, then," said John, picking up where his friend left off. "Say Professor Lupin considered doing something like that, how would he get Estella back once he found her?"

"-That's assuming she's even behind this doorway, or veil, or whatever it is," added Elsie sceptically, her hands compulsively stroking through the matted fur on the small black dog's torso as though it were a real animal.

Luna ignored their disbelief and shook her head slowly, the unassuming Ravenclaw coming to turns with her own measure of disbelief.

"Estella will call Fawkes, of course," she said airily. "Phoenixes are not of this realm, either."

One by one, the three teenagers opened their mouth to dispute Luna's conclusion. The whole idea that Estella had fallen beyond a veil whose purpose was unknown, even to the Ministry, and could be extracted by the lupine senses of her godfather and rescued by a bird sounded like something people were accustomed to associating with _The Quibbler_'s by-line. In a word, unsubstantiated myth and legend. Yet as they watched the quirky, loner Ravenclaw put away her father's letter and excuse herself, muttering something about asking Peeves for her Butterbeer corks back, they could not entirely dismiss the idea.

Severus transfigured his robes back into their original form and stared up at the school gates with an unreadable expression. After nearly three decades of either being a student or teacher within its walls, it seemed almost surreal to be looking upon its entrance for what could well be the last time.

Once inside the sanctity of his private rooms, he pulled his mask from a pocket in his robes and cast it aside, crossing the room in purposeful strides and collapsing into his chair to wait. The subject of the meeting was of no surprise to Severus; Draco Malfoy had succeeded in his task of securing an unexplored access to the school, and the Dark Lord was not about to dally. A contingent of lower-level minions was set to be dispatched to the school before the night was through, with a number of higher ranking supporters laying in wait around the boundaries of the school's wards. It was anticipated that the ineptitude of the less-experienced Death Eaters would make it seem as though the attack on the school was a fluke; a raid planned and executed without the full force of Voldemort's wrath. Severus' role, therefore, was to remain in his quarters until called upon to help defend the school; upon which time it was his duty to exploit his authority as a professor by staging a mass evacuation of the school, sending them directly into the path of the second force.

Flicking his wand towards the fireplace irritably, Severus slammed closed the grate and sat in the dark, relishing the silence whilst it lasted. Had he his niece to consider, his first instinct was to warn Dumbledore; but as he magically lit the lamps around him, lighting the room gradually so as to not affect his eyes, he noted the convenience of the man's absence. Should the man have still been on school grounds, a part of him would have been inclined to confide in the man purely out of habit – there were, after all, the lives of all the students to consider, and he was a man, not a monster. But Dumbledore was absent, and Estella was _gone_; what reason did he have to be compassionate? What could he possibly have to gain by saving someone else's child when the only child he'd ever truly cared about had been taken from him so unforgivingly? So accustomed to shielding his emotion from everyone around him, he was no longer sure of how to identify what he was feeling… perhaps if other people could feel his pain for themselves, they would understand. _She_ would understand.

If she were here.

"Hush… shhhh… that's it, let it all go…" said Remus soothingly, rocking the sobbing child in his arms, his own face lined with emotion.

A big sniffle, and a pause Remus had long since come to associate with his goddaughter's wry grin.

"Y'know…" another sniff. "You just…" a hiccup. "You just contradicted yourself!"

"I aim to please," said Remus congenially. At this point he would normally smile warmly at his goddaughter to reassure her, but given their current lack of light and their inability to see each other, even at close range, he couldn't help but frown.

"Stop frowning," said Estella suddenly, dissolving into sobs again. "D-d-don't even try to tell me that it'll be all right…"

Knowing that he could not re-assure the girl in his arms without first lying to himself, Remus was close to succumbing to his own feelings of helplessness, but held strongly to his resolve; it would do Estella no help if he broke down. Not trusting his voice, he held the girl closer and started to hum tunelessly into her hair.

"Uncle Moony…" said Estella in a small voice, calling Remus by an endearment she'd not used in a long time. "It's okay… I'm old enough to know that adults have feelings too. You don't have to pretend to be strong for my benefit."

Remus chuckled mirthlessly, a few tears escaping uncontrollably. Feeling the dam within him about to burst, he sighed in relief at the girl's consent.

"Yes," he said, trying to keep up morale despite the heavy weight of despair clouding his mind. "We all know your uncle is the master of that domain…"

It was not the right thing to say. Faced with what her uncle would likely be going through in her absence, the intuitive girl broke into a fresh round of hysterics. Unable to think of anything that would placate the devastated girl, Remus released the floodgates and joined his goddaughter in her grief.

Emboldened by her godfather's unencumbered display of emotion – the man's own fears giving weight to her own – Estella began to perk up.

"Y'know," she said, sightlessly blowing into the handkerchief Remus spirited from a pocket in his robes when he had anticipated her next bout of sniffling. "If we actually _had_ solid ground beneath our feet, we'd be drowning in our tears by now…"

"Now look who's contradicting themselves…" quipped Remus, his slow smile broken by his gasp of surprise when his feet hit something solid.

"Do… do you think we've hit the bottom?" whispered Estella, tightening her hold on his robes.

Remus tensed, his entire body on alert. Neither of them had noticed when the peripheral noise from within the veil and beyond had given way to silence.

"Something's happening," he whispered back, returning the hold as a slight wind picked up around them, bringing with it the sound of a Phoenix's song.

END CHAPTER.

A/N: This time, next week... only two chapters left now :-(


	25. White Shadows

**Disclaimer: Either that royalty cheque's bounced or I'm not J.K Rowling (I strongly suggest the latter). **

**Updated: Wednesday 13th September 2006. A day late, I know... my Dad swapped nights on me (long story).**

**Chapter Twenty-Five: A Final Betrayal. **

Sirius didn't think he'd managed the transformation so fast in all his life. With his back to the veil, it had been his canine nose that had detected their return first. His first instinct, then, had been to pounce on the smaller of the two and never let her get up again, but he'd wanted to get a tangible hold on his daughter; something only hands could achieve.

"I'm going to be sore for weeks," he blurted as his back cracked, Estella having blessedly met him halfway.

Untangling herself from her father's arms, Estella blinked up at the man in puzzlement.

"Well," she drawled, attempting to pull away. "If _that's_ all you have to say…"

Coming to his senses, Sirius tightened his hold on the squirming girl and looked down at her. Recognising the salty tracks of tears on her cheeks, he looked across at his friend in concern; his expression deepening when he saw a similarly tear-streaked face looking back.

"What happened?" he asked fearfully, his arms jerking in spasm as though the child in his arms would suddenly vanish again. "How…"

Before either veil-traveller could answer, a sudden rustle of feathers drew Sirius' eyes to a point over his daughter's head and beyond his friend's shoulder.

"Fawkes," he whispered in awe, blinking as the majestic bird disappeared from atop the stone archway just as rapidly as it had appeared. Eyes narrowing in realisation, he levelled a glare at his oldest living friend. "So why the hell did you have to put me through that, leaping in there after her like you did?"

"Yeah, what was with the whole '_the veil, its call is stronger now_' nonsense?" added Estella, rounding on her godfather, albeit somewhat awkwardly as her father would not relinquish his hold.

"Well, it did!" pouted Remus, an almost feral glint to his eye as he considered wrestling his goddaughter from her father, just so he could hold her in _his_ arms again.

A thought came to Estella.

"While we seem to be asking the big questions, what the _hell_ possessed Dumbledore to tell you about what happened with Greyback?" she asked. Now the danger of an eternity behind the veil had passed, she was curious as to why the headmaster had to break his word; neither Remus or her father would have needed any encouragement to follow her through the damned archway.

Remus flinched, his whole body visibly tensing at the mention of his childhood attacker. Behind Estella, Sirius went equally rigid, the man's arms jerking again from their place around his daughter's shoulders. Extracting her foot from her mouth, Estella bowed her head and swore softly: they obviously hadn't been told _everything_.

"What did you say?" asked Remus in a low, dangerous voice.

Though she knew that her godfather's tone was not directed at her; rather it was a reflection of his uglier protective side, Estella couldn't help but feel cowed, instinctively backing up against her father's chest.

"Moony," said Sirius softly, picking up on his daughter's reaction before the shocked werewolf realised what he was doing. Sirius had the benefit of experience, there being several memorable occasions throughout their twenty-five year strong friendship where the small group of people entrusted with the man's secret had witnessed his severe aversion to the one who had afflicted him.

Remus blinked, the agitated glint in his eye dissipating as he locked eyes with his goddaughter and saw a flicker of fear therein.

"I'm sorry," said Estella, unsure.

Quick to shake his head, Remus closed the distance between them and, after casting a permissive look at Sirius, tilted Estella's chin upwards; his gentle hands a direct contrast to the barely contained fire still simmering beneath the surface.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," he said hoarsely, pausing to look at the girl's father for reassurance. Driven by the man's nod, he swallowed thickly and sighed. "Whatever happened… whenever it happened… we're just glad you're all right…"

"But I didn't tell you when I should have said something!" blurted Estella, months of guilt unloading itself. When she noticed that her godfather was about to reassure her once more, she shook her head violently and held firm. "You _knew_ something was wrong… and I wilfully kept it from you. I stayed away, even…"

"The emergency meeting," said Remus, his eyes widening slightly.

Now it was Sirius' turn to bristle. The emergency meeting in question was in the last week of the Christmas holidays. Anything that had happened involving Fenrir Greyback before that point would have had to of happened on Severus' watch…

"What happened?" Sirius couldn't help but growl. Deep down he was grateful for the job his brother-in-law had done raising his daughter, but some habits were harder to shake than others.

Estella opened her mouth to respond, but a quick hand to her mouth silenced her before she could speak.

"We're about to have company," Remus informed them quickly, inclining his head towards one of the many doors that opened into the room from atop the ring of tiered steps.

"I have a Portkey," said Estella, her voice muffled by the still present hand.

"Estella. Portkey. Now!" said her father firmly, backing away from her quickly so as to give her room. "Remus and I will handle the guards…"

Estella screwed her face up in confusion.

"We can all…" she began to say.

"They know we are here," Remus explained.

"Besides, someone has to cover up the magical signature of that unauthorised Portkey activating," added Sirius.

Distinctly reminded of the Weasley twins in how the two men were finishing each other's sentences, Estella nodded. It became clear to her that not only did very few people appear aware of the fact that she had even gone through the veil in the first place, but even less were to be immediately told of her return. All three of them able to hear the approaching guards now, the two men exchanged a look; Remus taking the initiative in casting a harmless, untraceable spell on the door that would buy them a few extra seconds.

"Headquarters ought to be empty," said Sirius quickly, ducking around his daughter and facing her, his hands on her shoulders. "Floo directly to your uncle's quarters. He can send word to Dumbledore and Harry when they get back-"

"Back?"

The door above them began to rattle as the confused wizards behind it tried to open it.

"_Go_!"

Estella did as she was told.

"A hundred points! We'll never win the cup now!" Reg was mortified.

"Points? You're worried about _points_?" spluttered Elsie, easing some of the weight on her knees by leaning back on her heels. She brandished her scrubbing brush in emphasis. "What about my unblemished record? A _detention_!"

John nodded worriedly.

"And for what, I'd like to know!" he spluttered, throwing a sodden sponge back into its bucket, leaping back in repulsion as it splashed dirty water everywhere. "We were only doing what Professor Flitwick told us to do!"

They had been in the process of carting Estella's things back from the headmaster's office, the man having not been there to receive the trunk they had so diligently packed, when they crossed paths with the girl's uncle in the entrance hall. Recognising his niece's trunk immediately, the beleaguered Potions Master was quick to admonish them for invading Estella's privacy and not only take an insubordinate number of points away from Ravenclaw, but sentence them to an immediate detention in the deepest most point of the dungeons.

"I don't think any student has stepped foot on this floor in centuries!" coughed Elsie. The room around them was damp and musty, the three teenagers already covered in a layer of grime from the murky atmosphere.

"I didn't even know Hogwarts _had_ another sub-level," said John in astonishment. "We must be right in the centre of the very foundation!"

"Why do you suppose Professor Snape assigned a detention here, of all places?" asked Reg thoughtfully. "I lost track of where we were _five minutes_ before we ended up here… and I could have sworn that everything beyond the Seventh Year's Potions Store was off-limits!"

"It is," said John thoughtfully, reminding them of an obscure reference in _Hogwarts: A History_, and tying it in with a lecture Professor Binns had given on the Goblin Rebellion earlier that year. It had been rumoured, their ghostly teacher had informed them, that when Goblins had attempted to take Hogwarts, the students had been shepherded into the very foundation of the school; the wards at the time unable to protect as well as they currently did.

"Wait, you think _this_ is the place?" said Elsie, eyes wide as she began to look around the eerie dark room from a slightly different perspective. She shrugged. "Well I suppose it's big enough…"

John still looked thoughtful, a deeply set frown on his face as his acute mind examined the Slytherin teacher's possible motives for sending them here, of all places. The man himself had left as soon as he'd ushered them in, ordering them to remain until a teacher came for them and sealing the door shut behind him. There had been no instruction as to their task, nor condition restricting them from using magic. The industrious Ravenclaws had been quick to exploit that fact, conjuring utensils to clean the room around them, only assisting manually once boredom took hold. No one had wanted to admit it, but something about the whole affair was definitely off. Whilst far from outwardly favouring them, as Estella's friends, Severus Snape had always taken it upon himself to be at least fair to his niece's associates; such a sudden and harsh punishment was entirely unprecedented.

"What if," said John, his eyes narrowing at the sealed door in consideration. "What if history is repeating itself?"

"What do you mean?" said Reg distractedly, the determined boy preoccupied with a stubborn stain on the flagstone. "Goblins coming in to overrun the school? Don't you think Professor Flitwick would be the one to have a head's up in _that_ department?"

"I'm not joking around, Reg," snapped John, discarding his cleaning utensils completely in favour of standing and pacing. "In case you haven't noticed, the wizarding world _is_ at war!"

"What, so you seriously think _Death Eaters_ are going to make a run at Hogwarts?" said Reg incredulously.

"It makes sense, doesn't it?" said John with dawning comprehension. "Estella and Harry are conveniently absent. We're inexplicably locked in what is possibly _the_ safest, most hard-to-find room in the entire school… even a Hufflepuff could take that evidence and deduct that Professor Snape is playing both sides."

"Are you saying Harry and Estella were removed from the school for their safety?" asked Elsie breathlessly, John's assertions beginning to make sense in her mind.

Seeing John's terse nod, Reg shook his head.

"No way," he said, rising to his feet and gesticulating wildly. "If there were an attack on the school, and Snape knew about it, don't you think he'd usher the _whole school_ down here? His Slytherins, at least, surely!"

"Yeah, right, and have them turn on us on the inside?" Elsie pointed out.

Encouraged by Elsie's words, John nodded vigorously.

"It would be bad news for him if You-Know-Who stormed the castle to find all the students hidden," he said. "This way, his niece and all those she cares about are taken care of without being too obvious like, and he can do his job-"

"Potentially sacrificing the entire student body in the process?" said Reg in disbelief. "I think not! Professor Dumbledore would never agree to such a risk!"

"What if he _doesn't know_?" suggested John pointedly.

A collective chill swept over the room, causing all three teenagers to shudder with the possibility. The awkward silence was broken by a nervous chuckle.

"I think you've been spending too much time around Loony Lovegood there," said Reg lightly, though his own doubt was not far from the surface. He pressed on anyway. "You've gone mental, mate."

John sighed, and ran a shaky hand through his hair.

"I sure hope you're right, Reg," he said wearily, his grip tightening around the wand in his hand. "For all our sakes."

Severus scowled at the childish scrawl on the parchment. When the waiting became too much, he'd attempted to pass the time by marking some essays. In any normal situation, he'd have opted to brew a highly complicated potion – one that would thoroughly occupy his mind – but with every slight noise earning an exaggerated response from the highly-strung wizard, he'd decided against it. The rhythmic scratching of quill on parchment was calming to a point, the impartation of pointed critique requiring a measure of consideration that usually took his mind away from recent events. Picturing the author of the essay – a scrawny, beady-eyed second year Ravenclaw – Severus could not help but be reminded of his niece (the boy's older brother was in Estella's year).

'_What's the point?_' he asked himself angrily, throwing down his quill in disgust. If the night went to the Dark Lord's plan, the student in question was going to learn more about the Dark Arts than what he alone could ever teach him.

'_At least her friends are safe_,' he reassured himself. The seal he had placed on the door would only lift when the danger to the school passed, such was the nature of the charm. Whilst Charms was hardly his forte, he had, over the years, become all too familiar with the spells and enchantments that protected a werewolf from themselves – and others – during a full moon. If a healthy, fully formed werewolf could not breach the wards containing it indoors throughout its transformation, then the three teenagers stood no chance.

Thinking, then, to how he had seen Estella's friends in the entrance hall; the group drawing all manner of attention to themselves as they struggled with the burden of their housemate's belongings, prompting him to come down on them hard for unwittingly endangering themselves, Severus banished the papers before him and cast his eyes to the photograph on his desk. Estella would have been ropable at the loss of house points, he knew; but it was unlikely that anyone would care about their House's chances for the Cup come morning.

A knock at his door roused him from his thoughts. Steeling himself for what was to come, Severus crossed the room; the sound of the knocking broken by a small man's urgent calling.

Flitwick. Estella's Head of House. Perfect.

Grabbing a heavy-set crystal decanter from its shelf as he passed, turning it in his hand to conceal it from sight as he made to open the door; Severus prepared to greet the messenger.

The Floo to her uncle's quarters blocked, Estella was at a loss as to her next course of action. Her father had expressly told her to go to her uncle, mentioning that Harry and Dumbledore were not at the school. Not entirely sure what the student body had been told about her absence, she didn't want to just turn up without debriefing. She tried calling Fawkes, but to no avail. It occurred to her, then, that the magical bird had only ever answered her call whilst within the school; the lone exception being when the Phoenix had shadowed her at the Headmaster's request.

Quickly making her way through the rambling old house, scouring each floor for any sign of life, Estella's mind began to wander. Had the Phoenix, having regrown enough plume to carry a load, extracted them from behind the veil for its own reasons, or was it following Dumbledore's orders? In case of the latter, what business did the old man have in encouraging her godfather to answer the call of the veil?

Estella slunk into the kitchen, her stomach letting its neglect known. She couldn't shake the feeling that in overlooking Fawke's ability to travel between the realms, Dumbledore had effectively sacrificed her godfather. If the veil really did call on the unique bond she and her godfather shared, life for the man without her would have been extremely difficult. Likewise, her father would have become so torn between his own grief and looking out for his friend that he'd quite possibly overlook Harry's burdens; therein providing Dumbledore with his motive, intentional or otherwise. The bespectacled Gryffindor would need all the guidance and support he could get in the months and years to come, and a Sirius Black who could resign himself to the assurance that his daughter was not alone in her purgatory would be better placed to fulfil that role than a grieving father feeding off the devastation of those around him.

Shaking such dark thoughts from her mind – it was still quite possible that Dumbledore simply didn't _know_ all that the great bird was capable of - Estella concentrated on just how she was going to fulfil her father's request. Idly, she wondered where Kreacher could be… while it was not strange in itself for the nutty house elf to not greet her upon her entrance to the home, she didn't want to think of what her father might have done to the reluctant servant had he known of its misdirection. Reflecting on the scare that her untimely removal from the world had undoubtedly inflicted upon her loved ones, Estella wasn't sure on what _she_ would do if the meddling elf were to cross her path at that moment. If the malevolent creature had any sense of self-preservation whatsoever, it would continue to give her a wide berth.

'_That's if Dad hasn't nailed his head to the wall already_,' she thought darkly, of half a mind to return upstairs and take a closer look at the wall she normally avoided.

Eying the kitchen fireplace in consideration, Estella explored her options. She knew that once her father and his friend untangled themselves from the Ministry's heightened security procedures, they would come for her once it was realised that she never made her destination. But, so soon after all the worry she had inadvertently put them through, she didn't want them to relive the horrors of the past 14 hours; she would get to Hogwarts in her own way.

Flooing across town to the secure home her parents had made their own, to use one of the many emergency Portkeys therein was a roundabout way of reaching her destination; but it was safe. Whilst the Floo at Grimmauld Place as more or less open to any who knew the Secret Keeper's secret – Estella was unsure how it worked precisely – the fireplace of the family home was connected to only one place, and from there she could go just about anywhere she could possibly envision to go within the wizarding world, thanks to Dumbledore's many Portkeys.

Landing in the hearth of the living room that, in a stark contrast to the house she had just left, was homely and truly lived in, Estella could not help but smile widely. She was home. Not stopping to revel in the nostalgic sense of homecoming, she set about taking her pick of the Portkeys. Taking a punt, she settled on an issue of a Muggle music magazine. With any luck, her memory was not playing tricks on her and the Portkey in question would take her to the Shrieking Shack. She had decided against the small empty bottle of Muggle vitamins and the old ticket stub to a screening of the Muggle movie adaptation of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, that she knew would have taken her to the office of either her uncle or headmaster respectively. With Dumbledore out on some sort of mission with Harry, there was not telling who may be in the office, and her uncle was unlikely to have the grate to his fireplace closed without good reason.

Pocketing the items anyway – '_just in case,_' she told herself – Estella rolled up the magazine in one hand and levelled her wand at the ready in the other.

"Gooblededook!" she uttered the nonsensical password with a smirk, fondly reminded of the time when Dumbledore had looked at them with all manner of seriousness and taught them the phrase that would activate the Portkeys.

Rendered nauseous by the unforgivingly turbulent passage the magical form of transportation provided her with – Estella realising all too late why it was never a good idea to travel on an empty stomach – the weary girl landed in a heap on the dusty, unlevel floorboards and groaned. She had chosen the Shrieking Shack for its comparative isolation in respect to its convenient proximity to her goal, but as her stomach objected to the sharp tug behind the navel that was synonymous with Portkey travel, and the room around her continued to spin despite her arrival, Estella could not help but miss the presence of her uncle and his handy potion supply.

"Expelliarmus!" a voice, hoarse from disuse, squeaked at her, catching the woozy girl unawares. She spun around in the vain hope of catching her wand as it was wrenched from her hand and sailed over her head, to her attacker. Grey eyes flew open wide when she recognised who it was.

"_You!_" she spluttered, taking a few steps back instinctively, her mind frantically searching for ways to protect herself. How had he gotten out?

As if reading her mind, the man smiled wanly and answered.

"Your father was quite a mess when it was thought you had died," he said conversationally, poking her wand at her tauntingly. "Threw a paperweight straight through my window... the big brute never did know his own strength..."

Estella narrowed her eyes at the shifty man before her. She had charmed that glass herself, it couldn't have broken like that... unless either her father had added a burst of accidental magic behind the throw and the charm itself had weakened due to her predicament at the time. Still, that was a lot of variables, and she for one was certain that Dumbledore or Flitwick would have reinforced her spells with their own once she had left the office that day two years ago.

"I don't believe that," she said flatly.

"Oh, so would you rather believe that I was assisted in my escape almost as soon as I had begun my life as Dumbledore's pet rat?"

Estella opened her mouth to speak, but stopped. Thinking back to that day, she could distinctly remember her uncle excusing himself from the hospital wing in favour of inspecting his niece's handiwork in Dumbledore's office... by himself.

'_No_!' she scolded herself. Her uncle wouldn't be so demonstrative; he hated Pettigrew almost as much as he'd hated James Potter, and even if he had wanted to help the trapped rat Animagus, there was no way he could have switched the rat without anyone realising. The map, for one, would have identified the caged rat as a fraud, and had he escaped two years ago he couldn't have anyway of knowing what had happened in Dumbledore's office that day.

'_Unless Uncle Sev was there and fed him the intel_,' the acutely sceptical part of her mind reminded her. She knew that she had not spent any time scouring the Marauder's Map for misplaced names, and it was unlikely that Harry had done so in her stead.

'_Stop it!_' she scolded herself, mentally slapping herself in the head. It was clear that Pettigrew was deliberately pushing her buttons, trying to turn her against her uncle. She ignored the annoying little voice in her head that asked her just how the rat Animagus could know what buttons to push.

'_He wants me to defend my uncle,_' she noted wryly, another thought coming to mind. The nature of Pettigrew's escape, she realised, was not important; it was his motives now. It was likely that the man was trying to extract information as to her uncle's true allegiances, in order to better himself within the Dark Lord's circle.

"You can't kill me," she stated confidently. If her uncle was loyal to the Dark Lord, it would not bode well for the man before her to harm her. If not, then Lucius Malfoy would insist upon brain washing her to become their pawn before anyone could think of killing her to punish her uncle's betrayal.

Pettigrew looked disappointed. The wand in his hand lowered slightly in realisation.

"No," he admitted reluctantly, before raising the wand again in emphasis. "But I can take you to my Master, and he can decide what to do with a little blood traitor like you!"

Estella snorted in disgust, having no choice but to cooperate as the man levelled a wand at her and ordered her to lead the way. Remembering the additional Portkeys in her pocket, she waited until she had her back to the man before smiling slyly. Now, to just get her wand back...

"Yeah, Merlin forbid you should ever have to make a decision for yourself," she said snidely, throwing a smirk over her shoulder at the man who, she noted, was sweating profusely. Halting at the top of the stairs and rounding on the man, she sneered. "What's the matter, Peter? Your conscience giving you second thoughts?"

"No!" snapped Peter, all too quickly. He stabbed her wand at her. "Keep moving!"

It occurred to Estella then, that though she complimented both of her parents, the likeness she had to her mother was enough to remind the former Marauder just whose daughter he was condemning. She imagined that the man was equally conflicted when looking into Harry's green eyes.

"You know, my _mother_ always went out of her way to be nice to you," she hissed, reminding him directly of the kind consideration both Selina Snape and Lily Evans had shown the clumsy Gryffindor.

Though he had also been one of the infamous 'Marauders', Estella knew better than to remind the man of the friendship he'd had with her father. Both from what she had been told and what she had observed during her time in the past, Peter was a blind follower, and James and her father had taken advantage of that on more than one occasion. Yes, they had considered the snivelling Gryffindor their friend and confidante, but the boy had always been something of an outsider, and in light of the man's betrayal Estella doubted that his feelings towards his housemates were ever as flattering. Her mother and Lily, however... from what she had witnessed of their compassion and acceptance of those around them, it would be hard for anyone to fault them. She twisted the knife in deeper.

"Tell me, does your _Master_ reassure you when doubt yourself? Does he accept and encourage you when you make a mistake? Does he laugh _with_ you in your triumphs, stick by you when you fail him?"

"Shut up, shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!" Wormtail's voice grew steadily louder and more desperate as he backed her up against the balustrade, having already edged her down the first flight of stands to the landing. He was so close now that her wand was hooked under her jaw, his spittle spraying his face as he screamed at her. "You know _nothing_!"

Very quietly, so as not to draw attention to the fact that the hand furthest from the wand at her neck was slipping into the pocket that held her ticket out of there, Estella levelled her eyes at the frantic man before her and spoke.

"What's the matter, Peter? Did I strike a nerve?" she said knowingly.

Before the slow Animagus could interpret the meaning behind her words, Estella struck. Whipping a hand up, she snatched away the wand at her neck, the password for her Portkey leaving her lips before the man even realised that she was moving. Smiling grimly as the force of the activating Portkey threw the inept Death Eater back, she frowned when the sharp tug of the spell hooked her ankle, rather than her navel. As the world began to spin, Estella well on her way to her destination, Estella mentally kicked herself for not considering that a Death Eater in the Shack could have meant that there were anti-Portkey charms around the property. Sure, it _was_ only Wormtail, but as the Portkey deposited her on the dewy grass outside the Shack - and not in front of the hearth in her uncle's quarters as anticipated - it became resoundingly clear that Peter Pettigrew was not the only Death Eater in the vicinity.

"Bugger!" she cursed wearily, not wanting to look up.

"Your uncle was right!" an insanely cheerful voice cackled with unadulterated glee. "You are the _chosen_! I saw you fall behind the veil with my very eyes; there's no other way you could have gotten back!"

Her face screwing up in contempt, Estella looked up.

"What the hell are you talking about, Bella?" she glared at the woman scathingly, reminded of all she had put her family through. She really didn't like the victorious look in the woman's eyes... the look of superior knowledge.

Bellatrix clucked her tongue disapprovingly and smiled malevolently.

"You know, you really ought to be careful where you leave your notes," she said pointedly. "Though I am curious to know, what's it like being the pet Familiar of a bird?"

Estella froze.

_How could she know_?

Frantically searching her mind for clues, she shook her head violently as all fingers started to point at her uncle.

'_No_!' she admonished herself internally. She could not remember telling her uncle in any great detail what Fawkes' behaviour towards her at her first Order meeting meant. She didn't even understand it enough herself, to make much sense of it in her own mind! All she had were a few scant pages of notes from a book that was not nearly as comprehensive as she would have liked.

Estella felt as though she were going to be sick. She had taken those notes down in her uncle's bedroom at headquarters. Her father had interrupted her, and it was entirely possible that she had left some of her work in the man's room. She shook her head again... no... not her uncle.

"Oh, don't look so betrayed," said Bellatrix condescendingly. "I'm sure your dear Uncle Sevvie only did it to protect you! Bad things happen to witches and wizards who kill the big bad bird's pet human without consent, you know."

Insanely, Estella could not help but be reminded of her housemate, Luna Lovegood, as her crazed cousin shared her outlandish theory. Shaking _that_ idea out of her mind - Luna did not deserve such comparisons - she considered the woman's words. It struck her as strange that a Dark witch such as Bellatrix Lestrange would know more about a Light creature such as Fawkes than what she had been able to uncover for herself; but then if anyone were to know of the karma that would possibly befall the murderer of someone bonded with a Phoenix...

Something about the woman's admission plagued her, though. She had blessedly not been cursed with her cousin's company on too many occasions, but from what she knew of her grandmother and how her father was raised, a Black never volunteered information without a purpose. Turning the woman's words over in her mind, she considered what, exactly, would constitute consent. In Estella's mind, she could fathom how anyone would ever give someone permission to kill them... not unless they were gravely ill and dying anyway, which Dumbledore most certainly was not last time she saw him.

Unless...

'_No!_' she shook her head again in denial. The woman's presence reminding her of the Unbreakable Vow her uncle had made with Narcissa Malfoy, she couldn't help but consider the possibilities. What if, in blindly vowing to protect Draco, her uncle had committed himself to fulfilling the boy's task irrespective of if the teenager was capable of fulfilling his mission? If what Bellatrix was saying were true, Draco - and ergo her uncle - would be doomed no matter what he did, and the only way to truly protect the boy would be for her uncle to kill Dumbledore himself, redirecting the consequences as such, to himself. She wouldn't put it past Dumbledore then, to grant Severus the permission he needed to cast the spell without consequence, were they to find themselves in a situation where there was no other option.

Her eyes drifting over into the direction of the school, she felt the world fall out from under her when she caught sight of the Astronomy Tower in the distance. So distracted by the presence of the Dark Mark high above the grounds of Hogwarts was she, that she did not notice the cloaked figure standing with his back to them, whomever it was evidently too preoccupied admiring the display in the sky.

"I see the little star child has figured it out," said Bellatrix in a sing-song voice.

Automatically, Estella jolted from her thoughts and panicked. She had forgotten that her cousin was a skilled Legilimens, and struggled to recall if she'd kept her mental defences up.

Her mind suddenly flooded by images of her uncle persistently teaching her Dark spells, memories of the man writhing on the floor under the force of her wand, Estella was driven to put the months of heart-wrenching training to good practice. She was still angry at the woman for landing her behind the veil, and she well and truly did not approve of the way in which the witch was now talking of her uncle. Anger flooded her veins as she was reminded of her uncle's choices... of the Vow, and his absolute insistence that she learn Dark Magic by cursing him. She recalled with sickening hindsight how his forcing her to curse him - his being deliberately vague and judgemental - must all have been part of his plan to prepare her, not only for battle, but for the revelation of the path he had to take, and the subsequent separation they would have to endure.

The anger tingling in her fingertips, the emotion stronger than she had ever felt it in all her life, Estella sought relief. Thrusting her wand towards the woman - whom she dimly suspected was taking advantage of her powers of the mind by wordlessly goading her opponent into action - Estella struck

"_Crucio_!"

Estella could tell the woman was surprised by the power behind the spell, her own eyes widening in shock as her cousin was thrown back, screaming in pain. Smiling thinly as the woman writhed on the floor, Estella supposed that the woman had been encouraged in her actions by the lingering self-doubt and memories that had lain on the surface of her mind, the girl having remained unsure by just what she could do magically in the wake of her concussion and spending a day in a magicless void.

Lifting her wand after a few seconds, Estella sneered down at the trembling woman before her.

"_Surprised_?" she spat, a dangerous glint in her eyes… the absolution of her self-doubt making way for intoxicating empowerment. "You're going to regret the day you were born by the time I am finished with you, you… you _bitch_!"

Resigned to her fate, Bellatrix looked up at Estella serenely and smiled.

"You will be an asset to the Dark Lord," she said proudly. "Serving him in my stead…"

Lowering her wand slightly, the first syllable of the Curse dying on her lips, Estella appeared mortified. Stepping closer to the woman, her wand hand shook as she stabbed the long sliver of wood through the air in emphasis.

"I – WILL – NOT – JOIN – HIM!" she hissed.

"It's in your blood," said Bellatrix, as though explaining a difficult concept to a child. "You have already had a taste of the power… Severus has made sure of that all right… and to think there were those of us who have doubted him!"

"_Crucio_!" she screamed at the woman, her calculating words triggering a new wave of anger from within.

Her concentration was cut short by a girlish scream. Spinning around, she noticed the figure at the edge of the garden for the first time. At some point, Wormtail had made his way out of the Shack to find them, the man now writhing under the throes of the Dark Lord's wrath.

"Well done, well done!" said Voldemort, ending his punishment of Peter upon sensing his audience. He faced the teenager fully and clapped his hands, his piercing red eyes glinting with amusement. "I see much potential in you, girl… so nice to see years of investment coming into fruition so spectacularly!"

Estella opened her mouth to retort, but faltered, unable to shake the suspicion that she'd just been somehow duped. She was curious, and had very little idea what the evil wizard was alluding to, but she wasn't going to give Riddle the satisfaction by appearing so.

"Ah," she bluffed. "I suppose now you're going to tell me that all those times we've met and I've gotten away, you intended to let scrape away with my life?"

"But of course," said Voldemort with a twisted smile. "Did you not ever wonder _how_ it was possible for an otherwise healthy witch to die in childbirth?"

Estella saw red at the implications. Her mother's death had never been something those in her family ever really spoke of. Sure, her father and godfather - and to a lesser extent, her uncle - had told her a lot about the sort of woman she was, but the nature of her death was always shrouded in mystery. With her father and uncle in prison at the time, and Remus simply not privy to that kind of medical information, Estella had always assumed that no one really knew the details... either that or the men in her life did not want to give her cause to feel guilt. She narrowed her eyes at the wizard before her, a hand tightening around her wand in anger.

"Your lame attempts to bait me into '_succumbing to my Dark Side_' are not going to work," she said stoically, breathing in slowly and trying her best to clear her mind of negative thoughts. "Harry had taken care of you well before my mother even went into labour... you could not have possibly have had a hand in her death!"

"Ah, but you are forgetting that your uncle had gotten himself caught by Aurors before I had left to take care of the Potters," said Voldemort slyly. "With your uncle seemingly removed as an influence, I had to issue the order... and had I not been felled, you were to have been taken from the hospital and raised in hiding, to do my bidding."

"Why?" Estella blurted, unable to contain her curiosity any longer. "Why me?"

"You are aware of the Blood Debt that remains unpaid between the Blacks and the Malfoys?" asked the Dark Lord conversationally.

Estella narrowed her eyes.

"It is a matter of opinion whether the so-called debt still stands, but yes, I am aware of Malfoy's arrogant sense of entitlement," she sneered.

The Dark Lord smirked at the insult and looked directly at her, his fiery red eyes piercing her very soul.

"And you are aware of the sanctity of your lineage?"

Estella frowned. Her maternal grandfather was more or less a Muggle; the first in a long line of Squibs to marry a witch and sire magical children. The purity, then, of the Prince and Black lines were assured, but there was nothing spectacular worth noting about any of her ancestors. She shrugged.

"Blood's blood," she muttered, somewhat incredulous at the suggestion that Voldemort had chosen her for some greater purpose simply for the blood that ran through her veins.

"Do you not realise, girl, that the descendants of a witch born of Squib parentage inherits the power that their forebears would otherwise have possessed?" said the Dark Lord pointedly.

Estella's eyes flew open in surprise, and she had to bite her tongue lest she actually ask the Dark Lord if he actively subscribed to _The Quibbler_. The idea that the magical descendants of Squibs were extra-powerful was not a new concept. Speculation had been rife for centuries; the rumour accounting for many of the unions between strong wizarding lines and Squibs. Lines like the Snapes, who had been without magic so long they were essentially Muggles, diligently intermarried with other Squib lines, all in the vain hope that when the magic did return to their children, it would return with the force of scores of generations of lost magical ability. Her maternal grandfather, whom she knew next to nothing about - for those in her life spoke of her grandparents half as much as they did about how her mother died - had tried to speed up the process by marrying into an actively magical line, only to despair and rampage when his children exhibited early signs of being relatively normal. The idea, then, that Voldemort should think of her as capable of some unnatural power, was absolutely laughable.

"Have you _seen_ my report card?" she shook her head in denial. Had she stepped out of the veil into the wrong dimension? Her frown deepened as she spotted the _amusement_ in the Dark Lord's eye. Glaring at the man now, she scowled. "I don't see how any of this is relevant. I've never known you to show such a vested interest in the lives of your Death Eaters... so why don't you quit messing with me and either curse me and get it done with, or point me in the direction of the nearest Portkey point so I can go home-"

Voldemort chuckled dryly. "You are fooling yourself, child… I can see it all in your mind," he said, his eyes keeping hers locked in a silent battle. "You dwindle in your subjects, retaining information but never quite able to invoke the kind of power you need to make it work…" his lips curled into a smile as his words hit home, "you cannot deny that you have not wondered why… why the Dark magic your uncle has given you such a tantalising taste for has come to you so much easier… you cannot deny the sense of freedom you felt as you tortured Bella just now…" he began to circle her smoothly, his hand constantly reaching out as though to pet a new toy he was fascinated by. Slowly becoming hypnotised by the Dark wizard's words, she was only dimly aware of the Dark Mark high in the sky above the school, all thoughts of the people therein beginning to fade. His smile widening as he felt the girl's resistance begin to fall, Voldemort turned to face the girl triumphantly. "Ah, yes… that's it! Open your mind to the possibilities! Open your mind to the _power_ you so longingly crave… embrace that which is calling you! Join me, and achieve the greatness! Step out of Potter's shadow and give the name Black the notoriety and reverence it deserves! You know it's what you want-"

"NO!" Estella yelled, broken out of the hypnotic lull of the Dark Lord's persuasions at his mention of the boy she considered a brother.

Voldemort threw his head back and started to laugh.

"Bellatrix... Wormtail..." he turned to his minions who had, until this point, been standing either side of Estella; the dark-haired woman scowling slightly at her young cousin's lack of reverence. At drawing their master's attention, they bowed observantly; eyes downcast, they missed the man's smirk. "Leave us."

Wormtail flinched slightly, doing a slightly better job of hiding his surprise than Bellatrix, who shot her head up in alarm and glared at Estella with what could only be described as envy. She knew better than to question the Dark Lord, however, and followed Wormtail to an Apparition point a few feet behind Voldemort. The Dark Lord watched Estella following the pair's departure with her eyes and side-stepped into the path of her only known escape route.

"Ah, you caught me," said Estella, backing off slightly. It was one thing to feel emboldened with two flawed Death Eaters to bear witness, but one-on-one with the most feared Dark wizard in recent history, the enormity of her predicament began to hit home.

"What do you want?" she asked wearily, tired of the pretences. She just wanted to go home and be with her family... Merlin help the haunting she'd give the man if he decided to kill her after all.

Catching her eye, Voldemort projected what could possibly be his biggest secret into her mind. Estella could not help but laugh at the revelation.

"They don't even know, do they?" she said indignantly. There was no way Lucius Malfoy could know he was father to the Dark Lord's only heir, the man would not be able to help lording it over his peers, and filling his son's head with hot air. The irony, then, of Draco actually being an heir of Slytherin after all did not escape her.

The Dark Lord said nothing. Feeling a little uncomfortable amidst the silence, she began to wonder why the evil git was only divulging all of these details to her now. The more she thought about it, the more she realised that this was the first time they had encountered each other without distractions. The first time, for instance, the Dark Lord did not even know who she was, and the second… well unmasking his dirty little secret in front of a contingent of Death Eaters might have interfered slightly with the whole 'out-to-kill-Harry' thing. It struck her as strange, though, that the wizard before her had evidently gone to such lengths to ensure his lineage, and yet had no apparent interest in publicising that fact to those involved.

"What, are you afraid of what Draco may do when he discovers that his great-grandfather was a Muggle?" she dared to say. In response, Voldemort thrust his wand at her threateningly, and she took a wary step back.

He continued to watch her carefully. Estella fought the shudder that attempted to work its way out from her spine.

"What, am I supposed to be impressed or something?" she asked finally, shaking her head in disgust. If revealing his dirty little secret and accounting for all the pain and loss Estella's family had endured in her lifetime was some last-ditched effort to win her over, then the wizard was even more twisted than she thought.

_'Why me?_' she gritted her teeth, barely managing to control the hatred flooding through her veins. How different would her life have been if the man before her had set his sights on some other family line?

Before the Dark Lord could respond to her impertinence, she pitched forward suddenly, overcome with an unfamiliar feeling that she couldn't quite describe.

"It is done," said Voldemort smugly, turning his head towards the school and smiling, even though the Dark Mark had started to dissipate.

Estella did not know how she knew, but somehow she just _knew _that Riddle was referring to Dumbledore's demise. What she didn't know, however, was _who_ had done the deed.

"Who..." she muttered aloud, more to herself than requesting a response from her captor.

Hearing her words anyway, the Dark Lord need only look at the girl before him to convey his knowledge. Estella blanched... not wanting to know what her uncle would make of the realisation that he had killed to protect the one boy who did _not_ need protecting from the Dark Lord. Her simmering anger threatening to boil over once more, Estella could not help but feel cheated. Irrespective of any kind of arrangement that existed between her uncle and Dumbledore, his actions had very likely made him the most wanted wizard in continental Europe. Life would never be the same for them again...

Estella swore colourfully. No longer caring about his reprisals, she threw a curse Voldemort's way.

He laughed. It was enough to send Estella into a frenzy... having Lucius Malfoy regard her as a piece of property to be won was bad enough; having Voldemort do the same pushed all the wrong buttons.

Deflecting another of her curses, Voldemort began to lose his patience, and he threw a painfully debilitating, but non-harmful, curse towards her. Unprepared for the power of the man's assault, Estella staggered back as her hastily wrought shield was tested; but the spell did not hit. A blue shield not of her making cut in where her own defences failed, absorbing the spell and taking them both by surprise.

"Fawkes?" Estella whispered, blinking in surprise when the majestic bird appeared between herself and her attacker, protected by the blue shield that surrounded the girl.

Estella backed up in alarm as Voldemort began to physically advance towards her, rushing towards her before Fawkes could act. It was no use. A single, unidentified burst of magic rippled through the atmosphere, sending Voldemort flying into the air. Staring at the temporarily stunned wizard in amazement, she wordlessly accepted the talon Fawkes offered her; she had a sneaking feeling that Voldemort would not remember much of their encounter when he came to his senses.

As they flew high over the valley of Hogsmeade, bound for the school gates, Estella quickly dismissed the idea of leading people to where she'd left Voldemort. There was just no telling how long Fawkes' handiwork would incapacitate the wizard - she suspected it would last only as long as she remained endangered by the man - and all factors aside, Harry just wasn't ready to fulfil his destiny yet. There were still too many Horcruxes to be found before the man himself could be destroyed.

Descending in altitude as they crossed through the wards over the school gates, Estella yelped in shock.

"Set me down! Set me down!" she shrieked, as she saw the curses flying between her uncle and Harry, the highly visible head of Draco Malfoy continuing on towards the gates behind them.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she screamed at the pair, causing her uncle to stop mid-sentence where he had been goading Harry about his lack of skills in delivering Non-Verbal spells.

"Estella, you don't understand!" said Harry indignantly, trying to side-step around the girl so as to get a clear shot at her uncle. His neck whipping around as he did a double-take, recognising the girl as having returned from a place as close to death as one could imagine, he gaped. "Wait... _Estella_?"

"Hi Harry," she said casually, rolling her eyes.

"Estella!" her uncle's voice sounded strangled with restrained emotion as he came up behind her and rested a hand on her shoulder, urging her to turn.

Without reservation, Estella whirled around and threw herself into the startled wizard's arms, hugging him tightly.

"It's okay, I know everything," she assured him repeatedly, blinking back tears.

Behind her, Harry shuffled his weight from foot to foot, opening and closing his mouth like a fish as he considered his options. Locking eyes with Draco Malfoy, who had turned at the beginning of Estella's disturbance and was now watching with some interest, looking as though he would come closer if not for the bespectacled teenager, Harry decided to be proactive.

"Don't even think about it, Potter," said Severus, his wand pointing at Harry although his arms were otherwise occupied with his niece.

Feeling the man's tension, her uncle torn between fulfilling his Vow and reconciling with the niece he thought he'd lost, Estella made the decision for him and backed away slightly. Turning to face Harry, she reinforced the man's words.

"Back off, Harry," she said pleadingly. "I'll explain later."

"No," Harry shook his head, looking at Estella sympathetically. "You don't understand... he... he... "

"-killed Dumbledore?" Estella finished for him impatiently.

Harry stared at her in surprise, his hesitation allowing Severus to step around her and look at her in question. Cupping his niece's face in his hands, he titled her head up and looked her directly in the eye, Estella taking the initiative in projecting her recollection of the past hour into his mind in the blink of an eye.

"Thank you," he said finally, when it became apparent that his niece held no ill-will towards him.

"What happens now?" she whispered fearfully. She knew that this was nothing like the time when her father had been a fugitive... this time the person her loved really did do the crime, and no matter his motives, he could expect no amnesty from those loyal to the man he killed.

Severus did not want to have to say the words. Instead, he drew attention towards her own situation.

"Who knows?" he asked quickly, quizzing her on her return.

She told him.

"You have to die," he said hopelessly. Seeing Harry's horror-stricken look, he scowled and elaborated. "No one can know you survived this night - it's the only way you can be safe..."

"You want me to pull a Wormtail? she asked in surprise. "But Voldemort..."

"Will think you are dead," finished her uncle firmly.

"If you tell him you killed me, he won't be happy," she pointed out, nodding towards Draco in the distance.

"Draco will not defy me," said Severus. "He will see that this is to your immediate benefit."

Just then, an inhuman growl sounded from the direction of the school, and Harry, with his handy Quidditch reflexes, spun and dodged the cold-blooded attack. Recognising the feral form of Fenrir Greyback now bounding towards her, Estella visibly stiffened and inched towards her uncle. So far that day she'd come back from oblivion and, discounting the inept Wormtail, fought a homicidal woman and escaped the Dark Lord; she did not want to add Greyback to that list.

"You!" the wild man's words were barely legible through the flying spittle and snarling breath. Faster than Estella could blink, her uncle had bodily come between her and the perceived threat, his wand drawn.

Ignoring the danger now posed to him, Greyback continued his advance… slowly, much like a cat about to pounce.

"You owe me an eye!" Greyback stabbed his finger at Estella, glaring at him through his good eye, his other socket scarred and sealed, shiny like the metal that had burned it. Noting that Severus stood between himself and his revenge, he scowled at the armed wizard. "Out of my way, boy…"

Severus did not even bother with speech. A Non-Verbal spell later, and a distinctive green streak of light shot out towards the werewolf, felling him before he even had the opportunity to react. Although she recognised the hue of the curse immediately, Estella couldn't help but ask anyway.

"What did you do?" she whispered fearfully.

"Avenge my niece's death," said Severus, loud enough for Harry to hear. The boy had been ogling at the body between them and eying Severus with increasing contempt, looking as though he might take flight at any given moment. At Severus' words, however, Harry's eyes narrowed in recognition, and he nodded reluctantly.

Estella was speechless. She'd never witnessed a death before, and though she knew what her uncle had done to Dumbledore, it still struck her as a surprise to see him kill without hesitation. Admonishing herself for even considering taking a step back, away from the man who she knew, logically, would never harm her, Estella looked at her uncle unsurely.

"Do you trust me?" he asked quietly, almost afraid of the answer. He expelled a breath when she nodded, without hesitation. He pointed his wand at her foot with great reluctance. Uttering the incantation that would sever the smallest of her extremities, he broke the girl's fall with his free hand, muttering heartfelt apologies into her hair as he eased the weight off her now injured foot.

Seeing Estella stumble, a loud curse on her lips as all the blood left her face in shock, Harry burst forward. Seeing the boy in his peripheral vision, Severus looked up at the boy.

"Potter, hold her up!" he snapped. "I need to cauterise the bleed in her foot before she loses consciousness."

Ignoring the fact that Dumbledore's killer had just asked him for help, Harry focused on the fact that Estella was, indeed, looking a little woozy. Her cry of alarm had been muted by the onset of weariness; shock was setting in at a rapid pace. Stubbornly keeping his wand-arm free, Harry hooked his left arm around Estella's shoulder and stood close behind her, guiding her to lean back on him as the girl's uncle took to one knee, propping up her injured foot and banishing her shoe. No one said anything about the fact he was casually pointing his wand at the man, his threat remaining unspoken.

"What did you do _that_ for?" said Estella tiredly, her voice beginning to slur. "That was my toe! Y'know my balance will be all screwed up now..."

"It was necessary if the Dark Lord is to believe you have passed on," explained Severus quietly; "and it _can_ be grown back."

Behind her, Harry heaved a sigh of relief, but Estella frowned.

"But what if I don't want everyone to think I am _dead_?" she said in a small voice.

"Now is not the time to indulge adolescent impulsiveness," said Severus shortly, suspending the severed toe in mid-air with a flick of his wand before lowering the girl's foot gingerly so that he could stand.

"Oh yeah, like every teenager plans to fake their death to get out of their exams," mumbled Estella.

Severus gave a long-suffering sigh and wiped the back of his hand across his brow, a small smear of his niece's blood tracing a path across his forehead.

"Please, Estella," he said, an uncharacteristic pleading in his voice. He wanted to explain that it was for the best... that the fallout of his actions would be directed unto her in his absence, and between that and the Dark Lord's bounty her life as she knew it was over. But there was just not enough time, and any words of sentiment that he wished to exchange with his niece would not be said in the presence of _Harry Potter_.

Echoing his sigh, Estella nodded. With the onset of her teenaged years came a certain measure of rebelliousness, but logic invariably triumphed. The conclusions her uncle failed to provide reaching their fruition in her own mind, she knew that this would be the only way to ensure her safety, and her uncle's peace of mind. In light of the hard road her uncle would now have to face, alone, Estella realised that it was a small concession to make.

"What are you going to do?" asked Estella breathlessly, not just referring to what the man was going to do with her toe.

Severus cast a wary look in Harry's direction and took a breath; the boy was not going anywhere, and he had run out of time.

"All right, I want you to listen to me very carefully..." he said, one hand cradling the back of his niece's neck as he tilted her head up and looked her directly in the eye, their faces so close that their exchange was lost to the wind.

Harry was numb. Snape and Malfoy had gotten away, and now he had just found out that the Horcrux Dumbledore had weakened himself for wasn't even a Horcruz at all. The crumpled piece of parchment that he'd found inside the fake locket was still firmly clasped in his fist as he allowed himself to be mindlessly led to the hospital.

He hadn't heard his former teacher's parting words to Estella. The girl had stayed around long enough to ensure he did not pursue the fleeing man, imparting a few scant words in explanation before activating the Portley around her neck and departing for the place she had 'just bloody come from'.

At least she was in good spirits, he assured himself.

Pushing open the doors, Harry could see Ron and Hermione where he had seen them last, laid out on beds, magically asleep, as they recovered from the wounds inflicted upon them at the Ministry earlier that very same day. Ginny, who had been healed sufficiently enough to fight alongside them in this second battle, was with him now, her small hand firmly clasped in his as she explained all that had happened whilst he and Dumbledore had been off on their fruitless search. As she listened to her account, he could indeed see that Neville was in the hospital wing, the seemingly uninjured boy occupying the bed next to Hermione's.

A number of people surrounded a bed next to Ron's, among them a number of redheads he immediately recognised. Bill Weasley, fighting for the Order, had been brutally attacked by Fenrir Greyback and was facing an uncertain future. Allowing his concern for the Weasleys to occupy his mind - lest he go crazy worrying about someone he could not see - Harry gratefully accepted a chair closest to Ron's bed and balanced his elbows on his knees; his hands holding his head up as he stared at the floor.

"Albus! Albus!"

Harry's head shot up so fast he almost passed out from the sudden rush of blood to his brain.

'_Sirius_!' he blinked. The man looked frantic, and he didn't even know about Dumbledore yet…

"Where is he? Where's Dumbledore?" Sirius' head flew around manically; an utterly feral looking Remus Lupin bursting in the doors half a step behind him.

"Estella's been attacked!" blurted Remus, the worry in his eyes infectious as everyone turned to look at the two men. "Greyback… Greyback's dead… Estella's blood was everywhere..."

Harry opened his mouth to speak, wanting to explain how Severus had transfigured Estella's severed toe into a mangled and extremely convincing doppelganger of the girl, but was cut off by a series of gasps around him. One hand firmly attached to the limp hand of her eldest son, Mrs Weasley looked particularly faint; beside her, Ginny shrieked and looked over at Harry with wide, sympathetic eyes. At the furthest end of the room, a battle-weary Tonks pushed off from against the wall and hobbled towards them hurriedly, her narrow crutch slipping across the floor precariously in her haste.

"Wh-what?" stuttered the young Auror, the leg of her crutch catching on a crack in the flagstones and sending her stumbling forward. Tonks was the only person present in the hospital wing, other than Harry and the two Marauders, who had witnessed Estella fall through the veil; the others yet to be informed of the reasons of Estella's continued absence.

"Where's Albus?" Sirius asked again, urgently.

"-and Severus?" Remus added, giving Sirius a pointed look.

"They don't know," he whispered weakly, his eyes closing against the memory that flew across his eyes. Opening his eyes to see the equally blank looks on everyone else's faces, his breath hitched in his throat. "You don't know?"

Remus' eyes narrowed in concern, but Sirius acted first.

"Harry, what happened?" he asked firmly, stepping forward to face his godson fully, his eyes anxiously scanning the teen for any sign of injury.

"He… he… he… _killed_ him!" said Harry coarsely, compulsively smacking his lips together and grimacing as his dry swallow seemed to wedge itself in his throat painfully.

"Who killed who, Harry?" asked Remus, reaching forward and resting a hand on the boy's shoulder. "What happened?"

"S-s-s-nape. Snape killed Dumbledore!"

Finding the small Gringotts-like key just where her uncle had said it would be, Estella left the room that had been allocated to her uncle and made a beeline for the Order's potions store. Pulling out the sturdy chest that secured the most volatile potions and ingredients, she slid the key home with a shaking hand. If things were to go according to her uncle's plan, she would have to be quick; now was not the time to start doubting.

Whilst many may have looked upon losing a toe – _temporarily_, Estella reminded herself – as being an insurmountable ask, it was what her uncle expected of her next that left the girl reeling. The potion her uncle had directed her to was so dark and obscure that many people considered it to be a myth. Estella did not even want to think of why her uncle even had it in his possession; that he had no course but to urge her to drink it said enough.

"Here goes nothing," Estella muttered to the empty room, pinching her nose and tilting her head back as she knocked back the liquid in the vial.

Summoning the most repetitive, infectious song she could think of, Estella quickly set her mind to clearing itself. The potion she had just imbibed would connect her to the mindless clone her uncle had created in her image; she would see what it saw, control its movements, and, if she did not anchor herself to her real body, die its death. It was so spectacularly unlike her uncle to take such an incalculable risk with her life, but Estella knew such lengths were necessary if the Dark Lord were to truly believe her demise.

"Let the show begin…" Estella rubbed her hands together nervously. Whilst her uncle had not had the time to alert her as such, another reason why it was so vitally important for her to Occlude her mind was to keep knowledge of her _real_ location from being uncovered. It would not bode well for the Dark Lord to look into the eyes of a dying girl and call her bluff.

Wincing as the potion began to take effect, Estella slumped to the floor in shock. She hadn't expected to feel her clone's pain.

'_Well, this could complicate matters_,' she thought to herself, gritting her teeth as she redoubled her efforts to keep her mind in one place.

Letting out a scream as she felt the werewolf-like wounds her uncle had inflicted upon her transfigured toe as surely as though they had been cast on her own person, Estella could not help but think that, perhaps, her uncle had made a grave mistake.

"Wait, what potion?" Sirius had a pale, sickly look to him, the man overwhelmed by his godson's account of Dumbledore's death and his encounter with Estella and her uncle by the school gates.

Harry shrugged, playing over the rushed explanation Estella had given him.

"I don't know," he admitted in frustration. "She just said something about getting a potion that would help Snape fake her death…"

Thought it was the second time he had heard of the latest web his goddaughter had gotten herself tangled up in, Remus' breath hitched in his throat.

"…and… and was she planning on meeting with him after she'd fetched this potion?" asked Remus breathlessly. He'd not been able to reconcile that Estella could know what her uncle did to the headmaster and still acquiesce to the man's bidding; if she unwittingly followed the fugitive into hiding, then he might never see his goddaughter again.

A voice from an overlooked corner of the infirmary let its presence be known.

"If this potion is what I think it is," said Horace Slughorn, the portly man looking rushed off his feet as he struggled to keep up with the increasing demand for potions in the hospital wing. The conversation at hand had been quickly ushered into the matron's office, and no one had noticed the man's entrance; though everyone looked at him in question now. He continued with a shake of his head. "I always knew Severus was singularly gifted… but this… this surpasses even my own comprehension."

"What are you talking about?" snapped Sirius impatiently. "What do you know? What does this potion do?"

Horace Slughorn adopted his most authoritative, educative pose and began telling them all about the obscure potion he'd suspected to be involved. He couldn't tell them much, however, and what he had been able to impart only served to increase the worry of his audience. In a rare display, Remus Lupin beat his friend to the punch, swearing profusely.

"What in the devil would possess Estella to go along with such a thing?" he said finally, a feral glint in his eye as he entertained thoughts of what he'd like to do to the man who had, in his view, betrayed the child's trust.

Harry edged away slightly, saved from responding by Sirius' own rampaging.

"We have to stop her…" said Sirius frantically, eying the fireplace. "Merlin knows what's been going on in Snape's mind. He's obviously played us all for fools in making us think he actually cared about her - when I get my hands on him he's going to wish he was never born – and if Estella's trusted him blindly in going along with this, not knowing the risks, and something happens to her…"

"I wouldn't recommend interrupting her concentration if the potion is already in her system," said Slughorn breathlessly. "If her mind is not on the task, it is entirely possible she could endure the same fate as her shadow." Shaking his head as three anxious Gryffindors made a beeline for the fireplace, he scrabbled after them. "I must urge you _not_ to interfere… no matter what you find-"

Remus stopped short, turning slightly to face the former Slytherin head; his hand shot out to stop Sirius from throwing a handful of Floo Powder into the hearth.

"Just what _will_ we find?" he asked.

Beads of sweat were forming on Slughorn's brow, and he wrung his hands out repeatedly.

"Well… well that depends on the state of her shadow…"

Harry blanched.

Estella blinked blearily, confused, her eyes registering two different localities in her mind. The place she was most physically aware of, naturally, was the kitchen of her grandparents' home; but as the potion settled itself into her system she could _feel_ the ghostly chill in the air, smell the dew of the grass, and hear her uncle's voice. At some point, her uncle had Side-Apparated with her lifeless double and Draco, to the Dark Lord's congregation point. Unable to identify the generic country-side locale as she looked around herself, the dirty stone walls of the basement kitchen bleeding through the imagery, she started when her uncle addressed her.

"Try not to move so much, you're dying, remember?" said Severus quietly.

The man sounded rattled, and Estella realised that her scream of awareness, when the potion took effect, must have translated to her double. In her peripheral vision, she could sense, rather than see Draco hovering.

"Is she going to be all right?" the blond boy asked in a small voice; Estella supposed that her ring-in must be in pretty bad shape for Draco to sound so timid. But then again, the teenager had just seen her uncle kill both Dumbledore and Greyback.

"This is _not_ Estella, Draco," Severus said shortly, and Estella could tell that he also trying to solidify that fact in her own mind.

The distant '_pop_' of Apparition registering to her ears, Estella winced as she again became acutely aware of her double's injuries. Tightening his hold on her, Severus shook the impostor in his arms and glared down at the image of his niece's face.

"Fight it, Estella," he said urgently, an uncharacteristic worry evident in his voice. "Keep your mind clear… find something solid to ground yourself with. Concentrate on only seeing and hearing what is here. Do _not_, I repeat, _do not_ relinquish control of your own body. They cannot remain synchronised!"

Estella nodded mutely, her breath coming in short gasps as she felt the wounds of her double manifest themselves on her own torso. It took her a while to understand what her uncle meant, that is until she realised that she was lying lifelessly on the floor and any movement she made both mirrored and was doctored by the link the potion had induced to her double. Chanting to herself that the pain she felt, the blood she bled, was all in her head, she cleared her mind and tried to stand.

"Try _harder_," Severus' voice echoed in her mind. She could feel invisible hands keeping her still. "Focus, child! Sight and sound only!"

Estella squeezed her eyes shut and concentrated on her breathing, visualising in her mind the tangled web the potion had created. Bit by bit she found she could see the individual strings tying her to her double; it being the puppet and Estella, the one pulling the strings. But with one body dying, and all the trauma her real form had suffered over the past 24 hours, Estella was finding it next to impossible to retain specific control.

"I can't," she sobbed helplessly, expelling the breath she had been holding. "Uncle Sev… it hurts…"

Estella squinted and concentrated hard on bringing the ghostly figure hovering over her into focus. Severus looked down into the eyes that were connected to his niece's, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Oh Estella," he said in a voice barely above a whisper. "What have I done?"

"What? Whattaya mean?" Estella gaped as her voice began to slur, her whole body feeling drained.

"Oh Estella, you have to focus," Severus' voice was so faint, Estella had to read his lips. Suddenly, the man tensed, and he looked up quickly before regarding her again, his jaw set. "Hush now, he's coming."

"I won't let you down," Estella whispered, redoubling her efforts.

"You never could," her uncle's voice echoed in her mind as she was suddenly aware of noises elsewhere in the house.

"She's in here! I found her!" Harry slapped a hand over his face as he realised oh-too-late that he probably should not have yelled. Two pairs of footsteps thundered down the narrow stairwell behind him in response.

"Estella?" Sirius cried out, seeing his daughter sprawled lifelessly on the dusty floor, her robes torn and bloodied.

Upon hearing the voices, Estella's head shot up, eyes wide and bloodshot as a trickle of blood escaped from her nostril.

"Leave me!" she hissed, trying vainly to wave them away, but seemingly having her hands restrained by an unseen force.

Unable to follow his daughter's crazed request, Sirius stumbled into the room and fell to his knees beside the girl just in time to see her eyes roll into the back of her head. Gathering the girl into his arms, Sirius cried out in alarm when his child started to convulse. Within seconds of Estella collapsing, Remus was across the room and beside his friend; together the pair struggled to keep the little girl they loved from harming herself.

But then suddenly, she stopped moving, becoming a dead weight in her arms.

"She's not breathing!"

End Chapter.

Coming up next: The Epilogue.


	26. Epilogue

**Disclaimer**: If it wasn't mine for the past twenty-five chapters, I doubt the fact would change! The only thing that does, of course, belong to me is Estella… who is now officially retired. 

**Updated**: Sunday 25th September 2006

**A/N**: Since this is the last 'chapter' of the '_Estella-verse'_ (for lack of a better name), I just want to take the opportunity to thank each and everyone of you who have read, reviewed and otherwise gotten my work out there over the past two years. I sincerely hope that this will come close to meeting your expectations (though I have an evil feeling that it won't…). JK Rowling may have provided me with the key to the playground, but it is _you_ who have inspired me to write! Also, an extra special shout-out to my Beta for being such an honest, encouraging and enthusiastic filter for all my crazy ideas, enduring all my rants, and sticking with me this long! Words cannot describe the gratitude :) .

**Epilogue**

Estella's memories of that night her mind had split between two bodies were hazy at best. She remembered very little of what had happened after the Death Eaters had congregated around her uncle and Draco at the moment of the Dark Lord's arrival; the same time Harry had stumbled across her prone form in the kitchen of number 12 Grimmauld Place. The pain of the mortally wounding injuries inflicted upon her shadow form predominated her conscious thought, and she had struggled to maintain a grip on her reality. Her father's interruption had both served to anchor and distract her; the tendrils of the Dark Lord's Legilimency scarring her mind still as she struggled to recall what had happened in the moments before she had lost consciousness and, for a few moments at least, her very life.

She had 'died', according to her still-shaken godfather, for precisely one minute. When she'd suddenly come back to life with a deep, shuddering breath, her father had hugged her so tightly that she'd actually bruised. No one knew for certain just what brought Estella back; every now and then she'd catch glimpses of something in her dreams, and she'd secretly clung to the idea that her mother had had something to do with it, but there was just no knowing for sure. To say her loved ones were relieved of her survival would be a gross misstatement – they were beyond words – but Estella did not emerge from the ordeal entirely unscathed.

The 'wounds' that had fatally wounded her stand-in had vanished as soon as the link between the two forms was severed, but with the fake body's death came an inexplicable loss. Confined in her recovery, it had taken until after a week in the Hospital Wing for Estella to first realize it. Having recovered enough to warrant a midnight sojourn to the kitchen, she'd attempted a modest '_Lumos_' with her wand, only to find that the precious sliver of wood felt like dead wood in her hand. Gone was the familiar spark… that warmth that flowed through her limbs when in contact with the finely crafted wand that channelled her magic. Magic that was no more.

Immediately assessed by a baffled Poppy Pomfrey, Estella was assured that her mind had sustained more lasting injuries and would simply take a little longer to recover. Sure enough, she slept more, remembered less, and was unreasonably irritable on occasion; but Estella was disinclined to believe that it was all only temporary. If the physical evidence was not enough, no one had seen Fawkes since the magnificent bird had retrieved the veil-travellers from beyond the archway, and Estella could no longer feel the indescribably intense connection she'd briefly felt with the magical creature in the moments between Dumbledore's death and her own temporary demise. There was some speculation, however unfounded, that the pure-hearted Phoenix had intervened when Estella's mind magics could not discern between the decoy body and her own; somehow assisting in bringing Estella back from the brink of death and incurring damage to its own magical reserves in the process. People felt that if they were to see Fawkes again, Estella's magic would return with it, but with Estella's memory of the events repressed and no one in their number a skilled Legimens, it was impossible to extract the details.

Upon becoming one of the very few to learn of her ordeal, Horace Slughorn had hovered around the closed wing like a mad scientist, keen to poke and prod the recovering teenager in an attempt to document the effects of the potion that had split her mind in two. He was of the firm belief that Estella's inability to consciously separate the two forms in her mind caused her magic to die along with her double, and that it would never return. Despite the fact that Estella had been quick to agree with the man, neither Sirius nor Remus had taken too lightly to the intrusive man's conclusions. Poppy had to ban the three men from appearing in the Hospital Wing at the same time after the Marauders' retribution had seen the Potions Master transfigured into a giant slug; one that left a gooey trail that smelt suspiciously like pineapple all throughout the ward.

Hogwarts, in the meantime, had been dismissed the day after Dumbledore's funeral, its future uncertain. Estella and Sirius did not attend the solemn ceremony; for at Estella's insistence they were to go along with the 'death' her uncle had fashioned for her – until she fully recovered, at least - and they could not risk her father acting to the contrary under such public scrutiny. As it were, very few people knew of the close relationship the 'late' Ravenclaw had with the school's former Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher and Gryffindor's golden boy, so Harry and Remus were clear to attend the service, father and daughter remaining in the wing that had, since her admission, become strictly off limits to students.

Begrudgingly fulfilling his promise to the late headmaster, Harry departed the school with the rest of the students to spend the required two weeks with his relatives. With Hogwarts dismissed early, Dudley was still sitting his exams at Smeltings and the experience was almost passable for the beleaguered Gryffindor. His uncle had taken to completely ignoring him, and his aunt's mood was favourably tempered by the shortness of his stay. If not for the loss of Dumbledore, the trepidation he felt whenever he thought of the Horcruxes still out there and his worry for Estella – who at that time was still in the Hospital Wing – the visit had very nearly gone down as the best time he'd ever spent at Privet Drive.

Re-united within days of Estella being discharged, the bona fide family descended upon the south of France, intent on returning to the sunny cliff-top cottage. With Voldemort concentrating his efforts in northern England, and Harry becoming steadily proficient in Occlumency they were assured safety, and all were amenable to spending the summer and beyond within the protected wards of the modest vineyard property. It was during the first week of their summer there that the letter arrived, delivered to her by a distinctive black owl.

"Aquila!" Estella had almost fallen off the roof in shock. The sun had been down for almost two hours, and they'd been eating their ice cream cones on the roof, stargazing.

After her uncle's owl, Onyx, had passed on, and Estella had Hedwig, her mirror - and later Fawkes - to conduct her correspondence, she'd left her own owl in the care of her uncle. It was with a stab of guilt that she realised that she'd forgotten to enquire after the bird in the wake of her uncle's exile, and as she'd accepted the roll of parchment from the refined bird, she couldn't help but wonder how the bird had come in possession of its latest load.

Predictably, Sirius and Remus had immediately been on edge when they'd realised who the letter was for, and after insisting on checking the letter for any sign of magic, they reluctantly left the girl to her correspondence. Much to Estella's surprise, however, the letter was not from her uncle, as she had expected, but rather it was from the young Slytherin now in his charge.

_'Dear Estella_,' the letter read.

'_Words cannot express how much I wish for this letter to find you in good health. Your uncle is still of the mind that something went terribly wrong with the potion, and that you suffered the same unimaginable fate as your shadow. That said, he is permitting me this one indulgence to give me an opportunity to say goodbye before I am Obliviated. I have been informed that my skills in Occlumency cannot withstand a pointed attack from someone as proficient as the Dark Lord, and I do not want to be responsible for your discovery. _

_'So here I am, writing to you for what could well be the last time. As soon as the owl leaves my sight I will no longer remember that you are alive at all, and so as much as it pains me to do so, I must implore you not to reply. It is very unlikely that I'll ever see my family, or my friends, again... and yet I can just tell that your loss will hit me the hardest. If I had one regret, it is that I didn't approach you by the school gates that fateful night. I could never have known it would be the last time we would be within sight of each other. _

_'Now, since I am to have no memory of even writing this letter, I feel no guilt in admitting this to you. Estella, you were right. My father is in prison, and I have no desire to follow in his stead; yet I have embarked upon a journey of which there is no returning. I cannot allow myself to feel regret, but I will admit that I am questioning my motives. I picture my father slowly losing his mind in Azkaban, with little hope of escape, and I can only imagine what Severus must be going through, upholding the facade of your death. What future lies ahead for those of us who serve a master who takes us away from all that gives life meaning? _

_In closing, Estella, I want to thank you for your fortitude over the years and for not judging me by my choices. I realise now that we do not share the same views on a lot of things, lest of all the same feelings towards each other. I know you probably think that I was conditioned from a young age to endear myself to you, but you mustn't discredit yourself. That first time we met, when you picked apart the flaws in my new potions lab when I was trying so hard to impress you, I knew you were different. From my experience, many lesser people would fear the Malfoy name, and social equals would feign politeness for their own means; after all no one is infallible and turnabout is fair play. You, on the other hand, truly are a force of nature; you've strength of character enough to value criticism, and embrace praise modestly. _

_In short, Estella, I like you for you, and it's always been that way. _

_May neither of us forget that. _

_Yours,_

_Draco Malfoy. _

* * *

The letter was worn, having been opened and reread countless times in the weeks that followed. It still bothered Estella that her uncle hadn't written to her, but then Severus Snape was never a man of many words. The brief moments they'd shared, amidst pursuing Aurors and faking deaths, Estella knew that they had conveyed all that needed to be said. Severus Snape fled knowing that his niece still accepted him, and Estella, in turn, was assured of her uncle's approval; where she lived, with whom she associated... in sacrificing his involvement, he had given his consent. 

Nearly two months on, and Estella still could not wrap her head around the idea of _never _seeing her uncle again. Already, she had gone the longest period in her life with absolutely no contact, and the reality of the situation was still sinking in. She missed her uncle terribly; from the companionable silence of each doing their own thing in front of the fire after a long day, to the lessons he imparted and the objective advice he had to offer. Though not a physically affectionate man, Estella simply missed being _near_ him... she missed the comforting potions-in-the-dungeons smell that seemed to permeate through the man's pores, and could still feel the ghostly pressure of his hand as he adjusted her wand grip or walked alongside her on the slippery path from Hogsmeade.

Whilst those around her whispered and speculated about when and if her magic would return, Estella spent a lot of time alone, by the edge of the underground lake that filled one of the many caverns under the property. It was by the soft light of the magically-enhanced glow-worms that she would steal a glance at Draco's letter, often spending hours at a time staring sightlessly into the reflective water; the slightly damp smell of the atmosphere reminding her somewhat of the dungeons she had grown up in as she pondered her thoughts. For the most part, the adults left her alone when she disappeared below the kitchen floor, interrupting her only occasionally to ensure she received regular nourishment and did not catch a chill in the damp air. Estella knew that it was taxing on their resolve to permit her to be so introverted, and she was grateful for the time to get a grip on her new reality – it being particularly difficult to overcome the guilt that came with keeping news of her survival away from her friends. She didn't know how she would be able to process things if people were constantly plying her for information.

* * *

Fall approached, and the future of Hogwarts was still uncertain. The Order began to implement a contingency plan, issuing referrals to alternate schools in Europe and the Americas and lobbying the Ministry to provide a sponsored subsidy to meet any additional costs that disadvantaged families may incur. For security reasons, however, a number of families were making plans to home-school their children; and those of the Potter / Black household were no exception. Estella's marked lack of magic aside, the curriculum Harry would need to follow could not be found in the mainstream education system.

With the Ministry stepping up their procedures in the wake of the Department of Mysteries attack, it was necessary for Harry of all people to have a marked presence at Order meetings. After barely a few weeks reprieve, the steadily maturing teenager began splitting his time between their London home and their unplottable hideaway. Remus was officially assigned as Harry's bodyguard and Defence Tutor, with Tonks alternating that role for one week each month. Both were the only two trusted by both the Ministry and the Order who actually _knew_ where Harry went when he was not in London, and they remained two of only a very small circle of Order members who knew that Estella was alive and Sirius, by her side.

Sirius remained, on official record, 'under extreme stress' after the loss of his daughter, effectively disappearing from public life. Estella's body, in turn, had never been recovered, though there was enough forensic evidence available to lend to the story that Fenrir Greyback had fatally attacked the child before meeting his own demise at the hand of a vengeful uncle. With Harry, Tonks and Remus coming and going from the cottage with their Order duties, Sirius was surprisingly content to sit on the sidelines and care for his magically defenceless daughter. Most mornings, in the few short hours before the sun got too high in the sky, father and daughter could be found working hard to restore the vintage vines that had grown wild for well over half a century.

When he wasn't stubbornly applying himself to distracting his daughter from her woes, cherishing every stolen and steadily more frequent glance he got of the Estella of old, Sirius was voraciously immersing himself in the little tasks that fortified the Order's plans away from the frontline. With the assistance of seemingly limitless funds and a little well-placed magic, he was buying up rundown Muggle homes and renovating them during the afternoons Estella either spent in solitude, or studying theory with Harry and Remus. He would then resell them at a profit, the proceeds in turn being channelled into the Order and used to set up nondescript Muggle safe houses for its members. Until this point, Sirius had always thought that he would get the most satisfaction of being on the frontlines, but with being able to mix his assignment with being with his family and staying safe, it was a worthy compromise. He had thoroughly enjoyed 'fixing up' the home he had bought with the money his Uncle Alphard had left him, and while he was staying away from Wizarding-Space Charms this time round, the same basic principles of taking something old and making it new again gave him a thrill. He got a lot of fulfilment out of the work, and those closest to him had to agree that the physical process of 'healing' something (in this case, a house) was somewhat symbolic, for the emotional scars of Azkaban would only fade with time.

Though it would be contrite to say that they were 'happy' – a war was, after all, raging around them – they were as content as they could be under the circumstances. Each person had a defined purpose, each feeling a sense of worth in their individual contributions to the war effort. Sirius was raising revenue and providing safe refuges for those at risk under a mask of anonymity. Harry was studying hard with his tutors and, with the help of the insight Dumbledore had given him into Tom Marvolo Riddle's life, assisting the Order in the identification and detection of the remaining four Horcruxes. His tutors, in turn, were gratified by the acknowledgement that they were potentially instilling the Boy-Who-Lived with the skills that would help him triumph; their indirect role in bringing down Voldemort considered an honour of the highest calibre.

Then, even without her magic, Estella was managing to make an impact. With so many of the Ministry's research departments shut down in order to shift all resources into the war front, the astute girl knew that, in coming years, there would emerge a gap in knowledge; and so she read. As time wore on, she spent less and less of her spare time alone underground, and more time under the shade of the tree closest to the cottage, making the most of the pleasant days whilst they lasted. With her book in her hand and Kneazle in her lap, she concentrated on memorizing the history of the incantations and familiarizing herself with Muggle school curriculum. Her aim was to gain an unparallel understanding of both worlds… not only in case her magic never came back, but also to try and find if there was something, _anything_, that they all were missing. It was her ultimate hope to devise a spell that would best help Harry in his quest; she may have been unable to test her experiments herself, but between her father, Tonks and godfather's respective sense of adventure, she had her pick of volunteers.

Before too long, Estella even began to catch herself thinking if she really even _wanted _her magic back at all. Without the encumbrance of a wand, she'd had no choice but to take a step back and allow others to protect her. She could completely absorb herself in her research without the distracting guilt that came with not taking advantage of the wand-based skills she had been taught from a young age. Of course she did miss her magic sometimes… everything from the little buzz she'd get when she'd hold her wand, to the convenience of a physically undemanding 'swish and flick'; but the more she got fulfilment from her theory-based work, the more she came to realize that there was so much more to the wizarding world than simply being able to wield a wand.

Eventually, Estella's family came to accept that their youngest member was not suffering any untoward effect of her magic's loss. Their main worry, at first, was that Estella would not be able to defend herself in an attack, but as they became firmly reacquainted with the safety of their refuge and began to see just how effective Muggle defences could be, their minds were put at ease. All still clung to the belief that Estella's repression was physiological and could come back at any time, but they just did not know enough about the events that unfolded to say that for certain. In the end, they were just relieved that the girl's condition – temporary or otherwise – had done nothing to dampen her spirit; for if anything Estella appeared more driven and settled than ever before and they could not help but love her for it.

There remained only one variable in all their lives… one shadow that threatened to put a wedge between the idyllic bonds they all shared. His name was Severus Snape. Officially 'wanted for questioning' over the deaths of Albus Dumbledore and Fenrir Greyback, the wizarding world at large had been quick to condemn the man, but while his actions had left a void in the Light's morale, it was nothing compared to what it did to the few closest to the man. Amongst those who formed the body of the unique blended family of Potters, Blacks and Lupins, Harry wanted to avenge Dumbledore, Remus was blaming himself for ever trusting the man instead of protecting Estella from him, and Sirius was secretly terrified that if the man himself did not come to claim his niece in the dead of the night, Estella herself might willingly go looking for him. He could not quite understand what possessed his little girl from remaining so loyal; to continue loving the man so unconditionally despite all he had done, but he could not fault her for having the heart to do so…

For love, as Dumbledore had told Harry, was an emotion the Dark Lord knew not, and only so long as they loved would they be different from their enemies. With very little blood ties between them, Estella knew that it was unconditional love that tied her vagabond family together. The love and support of his friends had given Remus the strength to withstand the painful transformations of his youth. The love of his parents had saved Harry's life in infancy. The love of and for a daughter kept the ghosts of Azkaban from claiming Sirius' sanity. The love for her family had shone like a beacon when the darkness of the veil had begun to plague Estella. It had given them hope when all was lost, shown them happiness amidst a war of no such reprieve… and it would see them through.

END

* * *

A/N: All right, I am aware that there are probably still a few niggly things that were left unresolved. I wish to apologise for those of you who were hoping to discover whether or not Draco and Narcissa ever found out their relationship with Voldemort, but it was never really their story. Before her 'death', Estella had told no one (she carefully edited that which she 'showed' her uncle, by the school gates) and in my mind she no longer consciously remembers the exchange. I daresay she is too preoccupied with other things on her mind... 

I had, in particular, wanted to include a final reflection from Severus' POV, but as I felt that would be encroaching a little too much on the course of canon (since we don't see any more of Snape after that confrontation with Harry) it was a deliberate choice to remain ambiguous. I know a few of you will be up in arms by the insinuation that he will never see his niece again, but the way I see it, to give her up (for her own safety & well being) is probably the most unselfish and loving sacrifice he could ever have made. And knowing Estella, the moment the war is over and the wizarding world is far too preoccupied celebrating Voldemort's demise to hunt down Dumbledore's killer, you don't think she'd take it upon herself to track him down? Before you jump to conclusions, I must say, emphatically, that there are no plans to write said post-war story… or, in the foreseeable future, any fic containing the character Estella Black. I leave it up to the collective minds of you, my dear readers, to imagine for yourselves whatever will happen next. In the meantime, I _do_ have several other _new_ fics in the works… check out my Author's Profile for details, and a launch-date.


End file.
